Naked and Eternal and Insane
by kingfisherwings
Summary: A new Diva finds herself unwillingly in the middle of an entanglement of lives she had no idea existed and facing a question she would never have thought to ask: What is the measure of a villain? (Ambrose/Regal, Ambrose/Reigns, Sheamus/Emma, and other assorted pairings along the way.)
1. A Handful of Thorns

_If you're reading this and thinking that you have before, that's probably the case. Originally titled "Blood Oranges and Heavy Cream," this story branched off into two others. I realized later that they were really all one story, and should be that. This story is the result._

* * *

"Do you know Ravenna or something? She was...well, kind of a bitch. Like more than first-day hazing stuff."

Hollyann looked up to find Emma standing beside the locker-room bench looking concerned. "Yeah, I know her. From backstabbing to badmouthing. It's no big deal; I kind of expected it." She smiled. "But thanks."

Emma sat down next to her. "She was pretty pissed off when they said they were going to put you on the main roster without a stop in developmental. She spent almost two years there." She shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't mind it so much."

Hollyann took a closer look at the tiny blonde. She seemed nice enough - but didn't they all before the knives came out? "I wouldn't have either, really. But I was wrestling right up until the night before I got on the plane from Tokyo. No ring rust to shake off."

Emma had heard it was more than that; this woman had a reputation for being good in the ring. Emma and a few others who could wrestle a good match had been looking forward to Hollyann's arrival as a promise of things to come.

She didn't look like a scary death machine or anything - taller than most of the Divas, close to if not at Tamina's height, but not a monster or a bodybuilder chick. Emma thought she looked like some of the more dedicated women surfers she knew: lean and limber, with those deceptively strong legs. "So what is the deal with gothy-poo?"

Hollyann snorted. Wouldn't Ravenna just love being called _that_? "She used to be a friend. Or I thought so, anyway. Either way, she isn't now."

"She's saying some really ugly stuff about you. I thought you should know."

"She doesn't have the guts to say any of it where I can hear. That's nothing new for her. If it starts causing problems, I'll deal with her. I don't want to start a lot of crap my first day here, you know? But thanks for the warning."

"Yeah, I understand. Maybe I could kind of spread the word that she's lying out of every hole she's got."

Hollyann laughed at the image that raised. "I'd appreciate it."

Emma gave her another considering look. "Hey, a bunch of us are going out after the card tonight. You should come along, let them see you for themselves."

Hollyann thought about it for all of a second and a half. "I'd like that."

"The club's called Chrome. You can see the sign from outside the hotel. See you later!"

Hollyann smiled as she watched Emma bound off. The sight of Ravenna hadn't exactly made her day, but Emma seemed nice. Time would tell, though wouldn't it? It always did.

Hollyann decided on dressing down a little, given what the nature of Ravenna's bullshit almost certainly was: Jeans, Legalize Telepathy t-shirt, hair brushed out until it crackled and shone, minimal make-up.

She'd forgotten to ask what constituted "a bunch of us," so she looked for Emma when she got inside the club. The tiny blonde was nowhere in sight. Hollyann got a hard cider and stayed close to the bar, where she could survey the room and keep an eye on the door.

"Hey. Are you waiting for someone?"

Hollyann looked up, surprised. Batista was not someone she was expecting to see. But why not? It looked like a pretty hot club. "I'm supposed to meet Emma and a bunch of other people."

"Oh, you're early, then. So am I, even worse. Want to go sit down? We can nail down a table before they all get taken."

She followed him to one of the few larger tables left even this early; the place was filling up fast. They were tucked off in a corner, but that might not be so bad later when the place was packed, as it looked like it was going to be. She sat down, and he took the chair next to her so they could hear each other. He still had to lean in and almost shout.

"So they brought you in from Japan, right?"

Hollyann nodded; it was probably clearer than shouting a response.

"Did you leave a boyfriend back there?"

It struck her as kind of a weird question for only his second, but she shook her head.

"How long were you there?"

"Almost a year and a half."

"Long time to be without a man for a pretty thing like you."

And then his hand landed on her thigh. _Oh, fucking wonderful._ She'd heard about him; she supposed by now every woman in the business had. And if he didn't have the power now that he did when he was hosing every Diva he could get his paws on and getting at least one of the ones who shut him down fired, he still had more power than she did. A lot more.

"Listen - "

"I can help you with that. Maybe with other things, too. I'm nice to my women."

"Thanks, but no."

"Maybe you should think about it a little more."

_Maybe I should pepper-spray you back to the Dark Ages. And where the hell IS everyone?_

"There she is! Uh oh."

Emma looked distressed. Sheamus followed the line of her sight to a table in back. Uh oh, indeed. "She's not been told about him, then." He took a step toward the table, then stopped when he felt Emma's hand on his arm.

"If you start trouble..."

"I'll do my best not to, Miss Fretful. But I can't leave her there like that, now can I?"

Emma shook her head.

"You wait here, then." He walked over to the table, wondering how he was going to balance getting the poor girl out of Batista's clutches with not starting trouble.

Balance. That was it.

"Well, then, we've been looking for you, sure." Sheamus walked up to the table with a big smile on his face, very aware that the girl was answering it and Batista wasn't. He thought there was a lot more _fucking HELP me_ in her eyes than greeting.

He tripped over absolutely nothing, his arm swinging out and clipping the bottle in front of the girl and sending it skittering across the table, nearly into Batista's lap. Bullseye.

Batista jumped up, yelling and trying to wipe off the really very small amount of cider that had dripped onto his pants as if it were sulfuric acid.

"Oh, would you look at this, now! I'm sorry, so I am! We'll have to get you another drink!" Sheamus took the girl's arm and picked her bodily up out of her chair. She was staring at him, agog and starting to laugh in disbelief, as he steered her toward where Emma was waiting.

Emma wasn't bothering with agog; she was leaning against the bar in a fit of giggles. "And _I'm_ supposed to be the klutz?"

"Oh my God, thank you so much. He was..." She shivered. "Uck."

Sheamus thought the sentiment was missing a letter at the beginning. "You'd do well to stay out of his way until he finds the next love of his life."

Emma was bouncing up and down with some joy all her own. "Sheamus, this is Hollyann. Hollyann, Sheamus."

"And do you have a surname, Miss Hollyann?"

"Not any more."

"I know that feeling."

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then dissolved into laughter. Emma watched them, beaming.

None of them were sure what had become of Batista when they went to find a table of their own. They hadn't seen him go out the only door, and he was simply too big to hide effectively even in the massing crowd.

They forgot about him before long. Sheamus and Hollyann weren't inclined to dance, in spite of Emma's constant prodding to get on the floor just once. When they wouldn't, she did. It got to be obvious before long that she was doing her best to leave them alone with each other.

"This isn't so much your sort of place, is it?"

Hollyann shook her head. "I wouldn't have come on my own. Emma said there'd be a big group. I guess they all evaporated?"

"Never existed. And I know why now, surely. It's not so much my idea of entertainment, either." He paused to carefully and precisely make water rings on the table with his glass for a while. "Given how your night started, I probably ought not to...Would you go with me to somewhere more to both of our tastes another night?"

"I'd like that." The words were out of her mouth before she knew they were making a break for it. _Oh, stupid, you weren't going to do this. Absolutely not. Not with anyone._

He smiled; it was surprisingly sweet, and lit up his whole face. "Good, then. That's good."

Emma came back in time to catch the smile. "Yay! I knew it!"

There wasn't much either of them could say to that.


	2. Fireworks and Leaves

It took two weeks for the perfect combination of conditions to come around: Last house show of a stretch, in a town with plenty of good restaurants, no commitments for either of them the next day. Sheamus wasn't going to let that slip past.

He found Hollyann, Emma, and Cameron chatting away companionably in the hallway by the Divas' locker room. It was good to see, but the smile Hollyann greeted him with, he liked even better.

"My knight in shining armor returns."

"That's just me skin. People make that mistake all the time for some reason."

Cameron almost choked; Emma was simultaneously giggling and doing an unsubtle job of elbowing her in the side. "Come on, we have to, uh, go do that thing we were going to do."

"What?" Cameron looked confused; it lasted through about two seconds of Sheamus' best long-suffering look. "Oh! Yeah, that thing. We gotta go do the thing." She gave a yelp as Emma started doing her best to drag her off.

"They have to go do the thing." Hollyann was smiling and shaking her head after them.

"I had no idea either of them was that way."

It was Hollyann's turn to almost choke.

"I still owe you an evening out somewhere less neon, don't I? Dinner and drinks? What kind of food do you like?"

"Edible." She smiled at the exasperated look he gave her. "Seriously, skip Bob's Palace of Liver and Onions, and I'll be happy."

He thought he could manage that.

_You can't go wrong with a steak house._ Unless you're entertaining a vegetarian, Sheamus supposed, but surely she'd have said something if she was?

He decided when she walked in that she could eat whatever she wanted, anything at all. If they didn't have it, he'd send someone for it. The dress she had on was quite modest, but it snuggled up to her lovingly and made her legs look miles long.

He jumped up and pulled out a chair. It was pragmatic courtesy; that way he got to pick the one closest to his.

He could feel the exact moment when she decided things were still going to be all right between them. She settled into the conversation, started answering questions at a bit more length, smiled more. He thought he knew what was wrong at the start.

"Are you having some sort of war with that girl who makes me look like a Coppertone advert?"

Hollyann smiled, but it faded quickly. "It's an old fight. I guess word's spreading, then. And probably the crap she's been saying, too."

"I've paid no mind to her. She strikes me as the kind who'd gut her own granny if someone offered a quid for her liver. How did you get on her bad side?"

A bit strange, maybe, but it was the most apt description of Ravenna she'd ever heard. "She couldn't use me to get anything she wanted. It's pretty much how she treats everyone she decides she can't." She smiled. "I also beat her eight out of eight matches in Shimmer a couple years ago."

"She doesn't seem like dignity in defeat is in her vocabulary, true. If it's a comfort, she may not be around much longer."

"Oh?"

"She's not endeared herself to anyone since she came up. When she's not being mouthy, she's whispering behind backs. You're not the only one she's doing it to. That could work in your favor so far as people taking her seriously."

Hollyann nodded. It was an old pattern. Ravenna had been fired from Shimmer for that exact behavior. Maybe the problem would take care of itself again.

Sheamus decided not to tell her what he'd seen that afternoon: Ravenna and Batista off in a corner getting cozy. His first thought had been _Brilliant, they deserve each other._ But they were more likely to be trouble than to go off and go at it where they wouldn't bother anyone. He had no illusions about that.

He also had no illusions about dinner being spoiled if he brought it up - and he didn't want it spoiled. He firmly steered the talk away from unpleasant things, and was happy to find that Hollyann wasn't inclined to steer it back.

They ended up staying at the restaurant and testing out its pretty fair beer list rather than disrupting their conversation to go somewhere else. She stuck to hard cider, though their selection of that amounted to two brands, one of which she declared she wouldn't use to polish brass.

She tasted like apples when he kissed her, so he did it again. She didn't seem to mind being tasted. But he could see she was tense on the way back to the hotel. She showed just how tense when she tried to put him off seeing her to her door.

"I know it's not the time for you yet. I'll not try to push you along. But I was raised better than to not see you safely inside."

Hollyann sighed. "It's...it's not that I don't want to. I _can't_. All this stuff...It's got to be keep my mouth shut and my legs too. Until she shuts up or gets herself fired."

"Ah, don't let her control your life, Hollyann."

She looked up at him, sparks of anger snapping in her eyes. "Not her. Everyone else. If I don't act like a nun, I'm a slut. And don't tell me that's not how it is. I've been in this business long enough to know."

He wasn't about to try. Sad and repulsive as it was, she was right. "All right, then, we wait. I'm adult enough to keep the bigger brain in control. But can nuns have a goodnight kiss when no one's watching?"

She smiled. "If you get struck down by lightning, no fair blaming me."

He didn't, though there was definitely some spark in the air. He watched her until the elevator whisked her off. It irked him to not walk her properly to her door, but it was only a floor up, after all. And Emma was probably eagerly awaiting a full report from her.


	3. Far Beneath the Bitter Snows

"You dog. A regular Irish Wolfhound. Where is she?" Emma peered around Sheamus. She'd been waiting hours for a reasonable time to go pick on them.

"Who?" He looked like she might have managed to wake him, wait or no wait.

"Oh, please. Someone didn't come home last night."

"_What_?!"

It was the look on his face more than anything. "Hollyann isn't here? She wasn't here? Sheamus..."

The door slammed, then opened again a few seconds later. Sheamus was tying the drawstring on a pair of athletic pants. "You wait here."

She couldn't. Besides, there must be something she could do. She ran after him. He gave her a look that strongly suggested he was tired of not being listened to, but he nodded. "All right, then. She got into the lift, she was fine then. We start here and work our way up."

It was Emma who found her, three floors up. Stuffed behind an ice machine. She tried to scream, but she felt like all the air was punched out of her. The ice machine, she couldn't budge an inch. Sheamus found her still trying.

"Ah, no. God, no."

Emma got out of the way barely in time to avoid being crushed by the ice machine; Sheamus simply grabbed it and flung it into the opposite wall. Ice spayed everywhere. "Sheamus? Is she...?"

"She's alive. Go call for help."

Emma spun around and nearly tumbled over Wade Barrett.

"I've already called. What's happened? Who did this?"

There were several people milling around in the hallway now; the ice machine had made a lot of noise when it hit. Wade turned and gave them the most dire look Emma had ever seen, then shifted position so he was blocking their view more fully. He went on talking to Sheamus, his tone quiet, even gentle. Emma had never heard him speak that way; it was like someone else inhabiting Wade's body.

_He's trying to keep him from losing it completely_, she realized. She couldn't have been more surprised. She knew the two men had known each other for a long time, but she hadn't thought they were anything close to being friends. But this was concern, wasn't it?

"Do you think you might let me have a look at her?" Wade had learned basic first-aid years ago; for whatever reason, a background in the sciences made people automatically assume he had some kind of medical knowledge. Sometimes it was a very good skill-set to have.

Sheamus glared at Wade for a few seconds, then nodded and moved aside to let him into the corner.

The girl groaned when Wade lifted her head from the floor. He winced at the sound, but it was a good thing to hear, never mind his instinctive reaction. Pain meant she was still able to feel. He rested her head on the floor again, carefully, and made a quick survey of her, hands as light on her body as he could manage.

"She's got a concussion, likely. I don't feel anything obviously broken." She was covered with scratches and bruises, as well. Wade shifted again, putting his shoulders in the way of Sheamus' line of sight long enough to pull the girl's shredded clothing over her as much as he could. The bruises he covered didn't leave much doubt as to how this had ended, but she'd obviously fought like a lioness. Whoever the bastard was, he ought to be gutted and deballed.

The paramedics came and made quick work of taking Hollyann to the hospital. Emma insisted on driving herself and Sheamus there; he didn't put up a fight over it. Wade volunteered to wait for whoever from the front office would inevitably turn up, and to answer whatever questions he could.

His gaze sharpened suddenly as he glanced toward the far end of the hallway. "Now, what do you suppose that little mental case is laughing about?"

Emma looked that direction. Ravenna was standing there snickering. Behind her, Batista stood wearing the most smug and sleazy look Emma had ever seen. His face and arms were covered with scratches he wasn't even bothering to hide.

Sheamus said nothing on the way to the hospital. Emma wasn't really surprised; he hadn't spoken a word since he'd told her to call for help. She thought she might know why.

"It isn't your fault, Sheamus. It just isn't."

She was starting to think he wasn't going to answer when he said, "It's not, is it? I should have walked her back to your room. If I'd been with her..." His voice was hoarse, choked, and utterly miserable.

"He would have done it some other time." She'd hesitated over it, but he needed to know. She told him what she and Wade had seen.

"It would have to be them, wouldn't it?" He looked at his hands as if he'd never really noticed them before. "They'll pay for it."

_We're her friends_ cut no ice at all at the hospital. They were waved abruptly toward the waiting room, which Emma quickly decided had to be the most depressing place on Earth. They used it for its stated purpose: They waited. And waited. And then waited more.

What they were waiting for wasn't what they got. Emma was looking for anything other than spectacularly bad coffee to drink, and Sheamus was doing what he'd been doing for more than two hours - sitting with his face in his hands. She thought it was in hope of not being recognized again; five people had approached him for autographs in the first hour, never mind that he couldn't possibly be sitting here for any happy reason.

Neither of them saw Triple H walk in. He had to say Sheamus' name twice before it seemed to reach the man that someone was addressing him. It was hard for Emma to read the look in his eyes when he saw who was standing there. Resignation? But to what?

"I'm so sorry, man. Do you have any idea who did this? Did she say anything?"

"Nothing. But we know who did it." He sketched in the past couple of weeks for their boss; Emma thought he sounded strangely detached from it all, as if he didn't have a point to make. She was about to break in when she felt Sheamus' hand press firmly down on hers: _No._

"Do you have any proof?"

Sheamus shook his head. "She'll say when she's able to, surely. And they'll...do what they do when this happens."

Triple H had looked like he didn't want to be there from the moment he walked in; now it was ten times as obvious. "Sheamus, she's not going to say anything. And there's not going to be a rape kit done."

Emma saw confusion enter and then leave Sheamus' expression and be replaced with fury at about the same rate she was realizing what was being said.

"I'm sorry, man. We can't afford publicity like that, especially not now. She knows she won't be able to prove anything, so she's going to keep her mouth shut. That's a good idea." His glance moved to include Emma for the first time. "For everyone."

Just to cap it all off, the nurse said Hollyann couldn't have visitors until morning. Never mind that she'd obviously already had one; there was little point in fighting it.

Sheamus was silent again on the way back to the hotel. Emma thought it was more of the silence of a man deep in thought than the kind it had been on the way there.

The internet was alive with it the next morning when Emma reluctantly had a look: Hollyann had quit, no reason stated. Best of luck, future endeavors, blah blah. And Sheamus was taking time off to return home for "personal reasons." There was some leering and giggling speculation about the timing, but no one seemed to be taking that seriously. About any of the other events of the past 12 hours, there was nothing.

It took her a while to find Sheamus; she finally tracked him down in Wade's room. She could tell she was walking in on something half debate, half argument. It didn't take long to pick up the main point: Sheamus hadn't asked for time off; he'd quit. And he was furious at how it had been spun.

"You can't really have expected better, man. Take the vacation if they want to give it. It's up to you if you come back or not."

Sheamus shook his head furiously. "I can't just leave her here, Wade. You know what she'll think. Never mind that they've given that son of a bitch a license to do it again if he chooses."

"Take her with you, then."

Both men looked at Emma as if she'd just landed from the Moon.

"She won't see me. I'm after an hour of arguing with the hospital staff over it."

It took her a second to work that around. "Did they say she won't see anyone?"

Sheamus shook his head.

"Good. Then you're coming back to the hospital with me. I'll be in the car. And I'll be pissed if you leave me sitting there all day." She walked out without another word.

"There's her to consider, as well," Sheamus said.

"Yes. I'll keep as much of a watch on her as she'll allow. She's...a bit more resolute than she seems at first glance, isn't she?"

"Surely."

"Well then, don't piss her off, man. Get yourself to that car."


	4. Shut Down the City Lights

It took Emma half an hour to accept that Hollyann wasn't going to see Sheamus. She seemed disconnected from the whole conversation - heaven only knew what kind of drugs they were pumping into her - but the answer was the same over and over again: No. Just the one word, nothing else.

She'd intended to let him tell her, but there was nothing else for it now. "Did you know he quit this morning?"

That got the first reaction from her that actually looked like one - even if it started with that word again. "No. He shouldn't have."

"Well, he did. They're spinning it as a sabbatical, but that's not what he went in there saying."

"Good. Then he's still got his job. There's no use in him quitting over this."

"No _use_? Hollyann, come on."

"There isn't. It won't change anything."

"I don't think he thinks it will, either. It's not about that. Talk to him, would you?"

"No."

It wasn't the news she wanted to bring back to Sheamus.

"Why? She blames me..."

"No. I think she's ashamed."

He looked appalled. "Of what? That bastard's not her fault."

"Of not being able to fight him off, maybe. Of that damaged goods bullshit. Of being a victim of anything. It doesn't have to be logical. It just happens."

"There's nothing I can do, is there? The last thing in all the world she needs now is a man ignoring her saying no."

Emma was wondering if there was something _she_ could do, though. _She has to talk to someone, or her brain's going to explode. Who would I talk to if it were me?_ It didn't take long to come up with an answer.

"All right, then, what's troubling you?"

It was the genuine concern that got to her; it got to pretty much everyone who made their way through NXT. William Regal was part mentor, part rite of passage for damn near all of them. Most of the guys ended up wanting to try themselves against him; most of the girls ended up with crushes on him. Hell, so did some of the guys. Dean Ambrose certainly sprang right to mind, but that was a thought for another time. "You...you know about what happened to Hollyann?"

"I heard rumors. It's true, then?"

She nodded.

"The bastard." He looked at her sharply. "Are you worried about your own safety?"

"No...no, I don't think so. The Divas are going to be doing the buddy system for a while."

"Wise. What does bring you to me, then?"

"Hollyann needs someone to talk to."

"Yes, she does. And it ought to be someone professional."

"I don't think she will. She won't even talk to Sheamus."

The raised eyebrow was familiar. "Is there a reason she should?"

"I thought there might be. Maybe not any more."

"A shame. But what is it you think I can do? I've not even met her."

"Maybe that will actually help. I don't know. I don't even know what it is I think you can do for her, not really. But you're who I thought of first."

What could he say to that? "All right, I'll speak to her if she'll allow it. What I'm going to say, I don't know. Oh, and about this buddy system? It only works when you _do_ it. You came here alone, didn't you?" He shook his head as Emma looked first startled, then sheepish. If it was breaking down already, it was no solution.

Of course he went. What else was he going to do? He decided it wasn't going to be an entirely wasted trip right out of the gate, though. It was a hospital, not an armed camp; bypassing the nurses' station didn't take much effort, or even any real stealth.

Hollyann was dreaming, and clearly not pleasantly. He didn't know what to do but take her hand and wait it out.

When she woke it was if she'd snapped from sleep to wakefulness in an instant. Her eyes were huge with panic; she drew in a breath to scream, and it seemed to lock in her throat.

"It's all right. You're in hospital. Remember?"

She nodded; the machines were quieting down from the fit of beeping and buzzing her panic had caused.

"I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't want to wake you."

"It's not you. The dreams..."

"They're very bad, I imagine. They'll pass, for what comfort that is now."

She seemed to slam entirely into awareness then - of who he was, of that he was there at all, of that she was talking to him. Her hand moved toward the buzzer to call a nurse.

"It's all right, Hollyann, I promise. Emma asked me to come here."

"To do what?"

The wariness in her tone broke his heart a little. _The son of a bitch hurt her in ways that don't show like the bruises. And are likely to take longer to heal._ "I'm not entirely certain. I don't think she was, either. I don't suppose you know why I'm here, do you? _Someone_ must."

Her smile was wan and gone in an instant, but it was a smile. He felt a bit like he'd been awarded a trophy.

"I know it sounds hollow, but I swear it isn't: If there's something I can do, I truly wish you'd let me help. Or let someone help, if not me."

"I don't want anyone's help."

"But you need it. Have they offered you someone to talk to? A counselor?"

"The hospital that took a payoff to not take any evidence off me? Excuse me if I'm not so confident in their sympathy."

"They did that?"

She nodded.

"Fucking hell." And then it all slammed home in his brain. "Hollyann, I know you don't know me. And you can't be so confident in the good intentions of men just now, either. But if I can get you out, will you leave here with me? Right now?"

Her eyes widened. "Do you think they'd...?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure what I think just now. But I'm not convinced any longer that you're safe here. Will you come with me? Are you strong enough?"

Hollyann nodded. "I think I'd better be."

She was strong enough to get up and dress herself while he went to do something he declined to explain, but she was feeling decidedly woozy by the time she was done. She waited to pull the IV out and the wires off until the last possible moment, wincing as alarms started sounding.

"No helping it," Regal said, leaning back into the room. "We have to go. There won't be much time."

She made it to the exit to the parking garage with the assistance of his hand firmly under her elbow, but when he paused to open the door, she staggered and nearly fell.

"You're going to have to trust me now, flower." He bent and scooped her up. She was too stunned for the first few seconds by his unexpected strength to fight back. After that, she realized there was no reason to. He put her in the passenger seat of his car, buckled her in, and got them out of there in a hurry.

She was nearly asleep before they'd gone four blocks. She shouldn't have been, and he knew it. Pain medication, yes, but this was something else, or too much of the right thing. There was only one conclusion to draw: Someone wanted to keep her in hospital.

Someone was going to be very disappointed.


	5. Pace the Halls and Climb the Walls

Hollyann woke into confusion. The room was dark; her hospital room was never completely dark. The bed was too big, and the blankets were real blankets. She turned to jump out of bed on the side where she sensed more open space. When she did, she saw a strip of light at floor level. For some reason, it made the past few hours click into place: She must be in Regal's hotel room; there was really nowhere else to take her, was there? She was completely dressed other than her shoes. He'd even left her socks on. He'd left the bathroom light on and pulled the door to, and he didn't appear to be in the room.

"Know where you are now?"

It wasn't Regal's voice. She didn't recognize it.

"I _said_, do you know where you are now?"

_Stay calm. This doesn't mean it's going to happen again. It doesn't._ "Yes, I do."

"Good. Do you know who I am?"

"I'm sorry, no. I can't see you."

"Oh, you're sorry? Did you try being polite to Batista, too? Didn't work, did it?"

_Ohgodogodohgod._ She slammed the wave of panic down. It wouldn't do any good. "He hit me before I could be polite or anything else."

"I didn't hit you. I don't want to hit you. You'll tell him that, won't you? That I didn't want to hurt you?" There was a strong edge of anxiety in the man's voice now.

"Tell who?"

"Regal. You'll tell him?"

"If you want me to, yes. But if you don't hurt me, you can tell him yourself. He'll be back soon."

"You don't even know where he went, let alone when he'll be back." There was a derisive edge to the man's voice. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. You're right, I don't know where he is. I didn't say I did. I don't think he'll leave me here alone for too long, though. I...wasn't well when he got me here."

"You were fuckin' high on what they gave you in the hospital. They told me about it. They said you wouldn't be able to fight for very long. Batista said it was real good, you were tight as a virgin. Are you?"

It seemed like a very good idea to get the conversation off that topic as soon as possible. "You keep saying _they_. Who's they?"

"They! Them! Who else? THEM!" He was almost shrieking one moment, then quiet again the next. "You didn't answer my question."

"I'm not sure how to."

"Men say. If it's that tight, somebody told you so sometime."

"Men say a lot of things during sex, right? 'I love you' is always a classic. Most of it isn't true. And if we're going to sit here and talk about my sex life, I'd like to see your face, please."

"What? Oh yeah, sure." The man reached over and switched on the table lamp on the bureau next to him and tilted the shade toward him. "Okay?"

She stared into Dean Ambrose's strange, strange eyes. "Thank you." _I am in SO much trouble. Got to keep him talking._ "You don't want to hurt me. I don't want to be hurt. I've had all I'll ever need of that. So what do we do so it doesn't happen?"

"They didn't say I had to. Just that I could. And that you wouldn't fight much. But you weren't there. And now you're here and you'll fight, won't you?"

"As hard as I can. You'll have to beat me unconscious, just like he did. I...I wish you'd just kill me instead. I don't want to wake up after that again." She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to say that; it was probably the most stupid thing she could say to this lunatic. But it was true. Not again.

He was shaking his head vehemently, almost violently. "No. He'd hate me."

"Yes, Dean, I would. Forever. What are you doing here?"

Neither of them had heard Regal come in. Hollyann couldn't read the complex of emotions playing over his face; anger was there, nearly fury; concern, too. But something else, too...pity? It was hard to imagine that, but if there was none of it in him, why had he helped her?

"Answer me, Dean." Regal's voice was gentle, but it brooked no argument.

"I have a message. They said I could...you know, give it to her. And then the message, too. And she could tell you after."

Regal looked sharply at Hollyann. She shook her head, mouthed _no_.

"I think you'd better tell me. Not here. Come with me."

Ambrose nearly leaped out of his chair. Regal gestured him back and walked over to Hollyann. "I am so sorry for this. I wasn't expecting him. It's a bit of an ongoing issue." Hesitantly, he rested a hand on her cheek. "He won't hurt you. Not now that he's realized it would make me angry. I'll be back soon." His expression was glum, resigned. "I suppose we'd better talk about this, hadn't we?"

She wasn't thinking about what they had to talk about, or even about what had nearly happened. She was thinking about his hand, about how good it felt to be touched gently and with concern. And about the look she saw in Ambrose's eyes. Jealousy she could have handled, even hate for her, given the degree of what she thought was going on with him. But what she saw was pure, agonized longing, and it broke her heart for him a little.

Regal ignored the stares as he led Ambrose into the hotel bar and to the most private table he could find. He supposed now the half of them who still didn't think he was fucking the kid thought it now. Bloody marvelous.

He waited until after the waitress had put a double whisky in front of Ambrose and a Diet Coke in front of him. "All right, Dean, start explaining yourself. What were you - no, let's start from the beginning, shall we? How did you get in my room?"

"I...fixed my key card. Now I can't get in my room. But I guess Roman won't mind. He likes Seth better, anyway."

"You might try knocking on the door. All right, why were you there?"

"I was supposed to give you a message." Dean chuckled unpleasantly. "Well, I was supposed to give it to her to pass on to you. You know, when I was done. But when I got there, she was gone."

"In hospital, you were supposed to do this?"

"They said no one would interrupt us."

_Dear God._ "And you were going to do as you were told?"

"Sure. Batista said she was a good fuck. You know, once he hit her enough to make her stop going for his eyes."

_Your day is coming, bastard. I swear to that._ "And how did you know where to find her? Now, I mean."

"They were talking about it when I got there, that someone came and took her away. You almost got away clean. One of the orderlies saw you. Heard you, too. He said the guy was English. I didn't think it was Wade."

"Dean, why didn't you? You had her alone up there."

He thought Ambrose actually looked confused. "She _talked_ to me. Nobody does that. Just you. And I...I thought you wouldn't like it."

"You're right about that. Did you tell them where she is?"

"No. And I won't..."

_For a price. Of course._ "What, then?"

"You _know_."

_Bloody hell._ "Dean, you have to let go of this idea. You simply have to."

"You want her. You want to fuck her. I saw how you touched her."

"You frightened her fairly badly, you know. There is a difference between reassurance and seduction."

"No, you want her. I can tell."

There was clearly no use in arguing the point with him. "Even if I do, she's in no shape physically or emotionally for that, so it's out of the question. And there are ways to deal with urges, aren't there?"

"You mean...?" Dean made an unmistakable closed-fist gesture.

"Exactly. A man who resorts to forcing himself on an unwilling woman instead of that has no business calling himself a man."

"But you have a third option."

"The other hand?"

An almost-smile flickered at the corners of Dean's mouth. Regal would go to the gallows saying wiseass shit about the hangman. It was one of the things he liked about him. "Me. Do it to me. The stuff you want to do to her. Take the pressure off."

"Ah...it doesn't quite work that way. Anatomy is a bit of an impediment. And so is preference. I've told you how many times now, Dean - "

"You're not gay. I know. Me, either. But I still want you to fuck me. For two years, that's all I've wanted. The dreams, oh fuck..."

"Dreams?"

"After the first match. Shit, why do you think I wanted the second one so bad? Because I lost? The _dreams_, man. The whole match, all over again in my head. But when you were done, when you'd beaten me, that was when it started, not when it ended. Then you did what you wanted to me, anything you wanted." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. "I woke up with my sheets all fucked up every day for three or four months."

"And then it stopped? Why are you still doing this, then?"

"It stopped because I started letting myself think about it when I was awake. About how all those things you wanted to do to me in the dreams, they were in _my_ head, they were what I wanted you to do to me. I still do."

"So nearly killing me in the second match was no help?"

"It made it worse. More dreams. You started coming to me after the match and punishing me for it. It was so good...Please. Once, just once. Maybe it'll get the whole idea out of my head. And you can go back there and not think about wanting to fuck her. Everybody wins."

"Dean, for fucksake. I can't just..." He made a gesture that was somehow both vague and perfectly clear at the same time.

"Oh, I can take care of that." He licked his lips in a way there was no mistaking.

"And that's the price for not turning me in for helping Hollyann."

Ambrose winced. "You don't have to say it that way. You _don't_."

"Yes, I do. You're blackmailing me for sex, Dean. I won't pretend it's anything else. Neither should you."

"All right. If that's what you can give me, it is. Let's go to my room. Roman's off someplace banging Seth. He won't be back for a while."

It all seemed surreal, like it was happening to someone else, right up until Ambrose shut the hotel room door behind them and kicked the night lock into place. Regal dropped into a chair. God, he needed a drink right now. But old friends weren't always good friends, were they? That had been too hard a lesson to forget now. "What is it you want done?"

"I wish you didn't have to be so...businesslike about it."

"You've made this a business transaction, haven't you? Tell me what you want."

"You. I want _you_. Didn't you hear me?"

"Every word. But you're going to have to be more specific."

"Why can't you want me? Why? Just a little? Roman does, and he doesn't even like me. You said you did..."

"And in spite of everything, I still do. But I've told you and told you, I'm what and who I am. There's no switch to flip."

"You don't want it."

"I can't. But that gives you permission to be concerned only with your pleasure, doesn't it? Do what you have to to start it; I'll do what I have to to finish it. And then you'll keep your word, or so help me, I'll snap your neck."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." Dean would have sold his soul for a kiss, but he knew better than to ask; that wasn't part of business. He knelt and stroked Regal's cock through his suit pants. That didn't earn him any response, but he didn't really expect it to; he just wanted to touch it so goddamn bad. He'd waited a long time for this. At rest, it felt like it was going to be thick, if not huge.

He felt Regal moving around in the chair above him and glanced up. He'd settled back, head tilted back, eyes closed. That stung, but Dean was kind of expecting it, too; it wasn't like he'd really want to watch.

"Would...would you tell me what you're thinking about?"

Regal opened his eyes, startled. "What?"

"I mean, I know it isn't me, that's okay. But I'd like to know what you _are_ thinking about. Who it is."

Regal shook his head. "There's no use in - "

Ambrose smiled. "It _is_ her, isn't it? You want her bad enough to do this...and bad enough that thinking about her sucking your cock is gonna get you up even though you don't want to be hard."

"Yes. All right. And if there's any justice in the world, she'll never know that. She's been through enough without my sexual quirks clouding the waters."

Dean nodded. "Thank you." He unzipped Regal's pants and took his cock out. Yeah, average length or maybe a little more if he was a grower, and a lot more than average girth. It was going to feel fucking amazing in him, if he ever got it ready for that. He bent and started sucking, slowly pushing the foreskin back with his tongue, lapping at the sensitive head it revealed. This might be prep work, but holy shit, he'd wanted this, too. He was going to enjoy it.

Regal sat back and let nature take its course. It felt good, in the exact way masturbating did; it was simple physical release, stimulus-response, cause-effect: Suck a cock, it gets hard; give it a hot, tight hole to fuck, it fills that hole with semen eventually. He had nothing else to offer. His mind insistently returned to the image of Hollyann on her knees doing this, swallowing him, moaning, making herself vulnerable, offering him her body, trusting him to -

The sensations stopped abruptly. He heard the rustle of clothing falling away. "I'm ready."

_And so, apparently, am I._ He took a deep breath and stood, surprised to find himself a little unsteady on his feet. _Blood loss to the brain_, he thought dryly. It was a little disconcerting to find Ambrose on hands and knees on the bed, arse in the air. Not that he expected to see anything else, but it tended to make the hard-on he'd put all that effort into waver a bit.

"You can close your eyes again once it's in. It's all right."

"I'm sorry. Believe that or not as you like, but I truly am." He positioned himself, and another thought struck him. "Do you have, ah...?"

"In the drawer." Ambrose sounded a little breathless. "Hurry, please hurry."

He found half of what he was looking for. He tore the condom packet open and rolled it on. "What about...?" _You sound like a blushing virgin. Stop being a twit._ "Where do I find lube? I'm not keen to injure you."

Ambrose looked back over his shoulder; impossibly, he was smiling. "You _were_."

"Different circumstances, and not this way, regardless. Come along, now; you've said enough to tell me there's more than video games being played in here nights."

"There isn't any. Roman won't use it."

_Christ, man, I'm sorry for you._ "Well, I'm afraid I have to insist." He grabbed the first travel bag that came to hand from under the bed; the tag identified it as Roman's. He hesitated, but not for long. Ten seconds' rummaging uncovered a surprise that really wasn't entirely one: Roman might be refusing to use lube with Dean, but he wasn't refusing with _someone_.

_I am going to be bloody lucky not to leave here with a disease mean enough to punch penicillin in the bollocks_, he thought. He gave the whole thing another moment's thought, then pulled the squirt cap off the top of the bottle and upended it over his cock. Rubbing it on more evenly undid the losses all the futzing around had caused. He moved back behind Ambrose.

"I make no promises of being any good at this." He pushed at the tight opening with the head of his cock, wincing at the resistance. He'd done this with a few women, but never really liked it; he was at heart thoroughly conventional when it came to these things.

"Do it, just do it, shove it in me." Ambrose was pushing back against him, panting and shivering.

"Hush." He pushed harder, and the head popped in abruptly enough that the first four inches of his shaft followed before he could regain control of the thrust. The clenching tightness around him felt good, and Ambrose obviously liked it; the strangled, animal cry that tore out of him left no doubt of that.

_I really don't think a fuck is going to get this out of his system._ But that wasn't his problem, was it? He closed his eyes and started thrusting, letting the sounds he heard guide him; all Ambrose seemed to want was to be fucked harder and harder.

Eyes closed and in this position, it took a while for Regal to realize that some of the sounds he was hearing were sobs. He stopped, appalled. "I'm hurting you. Why didn't you tell me?"

Ambrose shook his head furiously. "Not hurting. Please...please."

"Damn it. I can't do this." He pulled out, tearing a furious howl from Ambrose. "Hush. turn over."

He did, looking up at the older man in wonder. There were tears in his eyes, and still wet on his cheeks.

_And I can't do fuckall about that, either._ "You know better than I do. What makes it work right this way?"

Ambrose grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips, then drew his knees up to his chest, legs parted. "This. Like this."

He entered the younger man again - it was easier this time - and began fucking him, slow and easy. It was better being able to see his expression, easier to be sure of not hurting him.

"Does it feel good? Roman says I'm a good fuck."

"You don't worry yourself over Roman right now. _Does_ it feel good?"

He seemed to need a few seconds to understand he was being asked for his opinion on the matter. "Yes. Oh God yes, thank you, thank you for this...I wasn't going to tell. Even if you didn't."

"I know. Now, for the last time, hush."

It went quickly after that, for them both. Ambrose didn't seem to expect him to do anything more than he was doing; when it came time for that, he took matters in his own hands. Regal finished seconds after him, then pulled out and fell onto the bed beside Ambrose, groaning. He found himself very unintentionally spooning the younger man, who pushed back against him with a sigh.

"I love you."

_This is all so utterly fucked up._ But that didn't mean he had to treat the kid like a $20 whore, either; it seemed he'd already had his share of that. Regal took a deep breath, then let his arm fall gently across the younger man's body. "You don't. Truly you don't, even if you feel like it just now. I'm sorry you've been so hurt. I wish I could help you, but I can't."

"William?"

He was almost certain it was the first time Dean had ever spoken his given name to him. "Yes?"

"You can help her. She'll need someone. You know, when she's better. When she's ready. Someone who can make it be good for her. You."

"You do realize I don't understand you in the slightest? You coerce sex from me, then tell me you want me to have it with someone else?"

"If you could be this nice to me..."

"Nice. Well, I didn't beat the unholy hell out of you, if that's what you mean."

"It's a good start."

"Make Roman leave you alone, Dean. Before he does you serious harm."

"But he's all I have."

There was no good answer for that, not any honest one, at least. And just now, he couldn't bring himself to lie.

He was back in the room with Hollyann for close to an hour, getting a whole range of odd looks from her, when it hit him. He could blame it on everything else he'd had to be thinking of, he supposed, but it was still a lapse, a terrible one. Regal grabbed his phone, hoping he hadn't waited too long.

_Were we in your room?_

_Was it that good, you don't remember where we were?_

_Answer me, Dean. This is important._

_Yeah, it was my room._

_But you said you didn't have a key for it any more, that you altered yours to get in my room._

_I kind of lied about that._

_Did someone give you a key to my room?_

_Oh fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry, man. Get out. Take her and get out now. Don't check out, I'll pay the bill in the morning._

_Who gave you the key?_

_They did. Run._

"We have to go. Now."

She took one look at the expression on his face and decided not to ask questions, not now.

They were at the car within ten minutes. Hollyann plucked the keys out of his hand, smiling at his startled expression. "I think I'd better drive first. You need the sleep. Where are we going?"

"Anywhere."

He sat silent as they left the city, as she found a radio station to her liking, and as she set the cruise control on the highway. Then he couldn't any longer. "How did you know?"

"You came back looking like a man who just got laid pretty well. And smelling like sex." She glanced at him and smiled. "You still do."

He resisted the urge to open the window. Another 20 miles of silence, and it was her turn to break it. "So, is that why you haven't tried anything? You could have saved me some wondering if you'd just said."

"If you're asking whether I'm gay, the answer is no. It was the first time, and the last."

"Then why tonight? And, well...why him? He's kind of creepy."

"He's more than that. And it was his price for keeping quiet about where you were." He laughed bitterly. "More or less. They already knew before he offered that deal. He conveniently failed to mention that."

That had hit him a few minutes out of the city: They'd given Ambrose the key before he made the promise not to tell. He wasn't angry about it, not exactly; it was too little a surprise for him to be really angry.

"You did that for me?"

"As things stood - or as I thought they stood - there was no other option."

She reached up, her fingers brushing across his face like a breath. "Of course there was. You could have let them have me."

"That isn't an option. So you shouldn't think it."

"Why? You don't know me. I don't have anything to hold over you, either."

"Hollyann, I'm not the nicest man you'll ever meet, and it doesn't trouble me that I'm the way I am. But I do still know right from wrong. And now and again I care about it, too. What's happened to you is wrong, and so is that they don't seem to have any compunctions about it happening again if it serves their purposes."

They rode on in silence again for a while.

"You've been good to me. The rest doesn't matter. Not to me, anyway."

"When we stop, there's something I want to show you."

It took a while to find a place to stop; they drove nearly 14 hours, switching off halfway through, stopping for food only once. It took almost an hour, a very frustrating one, for Regal to find what he was looking for when they decided they'd had enough driving, because the two things he needed were incompatible: A decent hotel that wouldn't balk at his not producing a credit card, and wifi.

A small bed and breakfast filled the bill, and even provided them with what was more or less a small cabin of their own. He settled Hollyann down in front of the laptop and pointed to three YouTube videos. "You watch. I'm going to go find us some food."

He gave her ten minutes longer than the videos would take to watch through. He wasn't sure what he'd find when he got back; her gone was a distinct possibility.

She was still there - sitting by the window, not making any effort to hide her tears.

"Don't trust Dean, Hollyann. He's dangerous, even to people he likes. Maybe especially to them. And you should reconsider how much to trust me, don't you think?"

"I should, if you really don't see any difference between the two situations. But I don't think that's so. And I saw something else."

"Oh?" God only knew what worse she might have found out there.

She turned the laptop toward him and clicked. He knew three seconds in what he was watching. A smile touched his mouth, beyond his ability to stop. "Ah, Eugene."

"Tell me some more about being dangerous to other people. About not being trustworthy."

"Even villains have off days."

She blew a raspberry at him. He looked at her, agog, then sat down on the bed and laughed himself to the point of tears. He was concerned that she didn't understand about Ambrose, not really; he was going to have to come back to that. But not now, not just now.


	6. My Roisin Dubh

They got careless; it was as simple as that. 14 hours away from anywhere anyone had last seen them, living on a cash basis, they both felt safe. Regal watched Hollyann beginning to blossom - to heal - in the peaceful conditions and under the gently solicitous care of the widowed owner of the place, and even when the warning voice in his ear started saying that a week and a half was too long, much too long, he ignored it.

He went into their rooms and found a note from Hollyann on the table; it was her turn to sort out what to do for their evening meal, and he assumed she'd gone to do that. He liked her turn. His usually ended in something wrapped in paper to go in the microwave. She cooked, and startlingly well given the limited resources of the place. He reached for a lightswitch so he could read the note; for some reason, she'd closed all the curtains even though it was still three hours to sunset.

"William."

He turned slowly. The last time Dean had used his given name...

He had a gun. Cocked and aimed directly at the older man's heart.

"Dean, don't do this. Don't be foolish."

"I'm not. I'm going to be your friend tonight. I wish I didn't need this to do it, but I do. Sit down. Over there, in that chair."

He sat. Dean took another chair, dragging it several feet away and sitting as well. The gun never wavered. "We can talk while we're waiting, can't we? I like when you talk to me."

"I don't see why not. What are we waiting for?"

"Everything to be just right. Did you ever think the world would be so much better if people just did what they want to do?"

"Rape, murder, robbery. A lovely world, indeed."

"You have a worse opinion of people than I do. I didn't think anyone could. People do all those things already."

"And they'd do more of it with the liberty to. Conscience prevents a lot of tragedy in this world, for the people who have it."

"Another word for fear, that's all that is. And the bad things usually happen to the people who have it. So much for that. But those people want to stop bad things, don't they? Shouldn't they be free to?"

"They are. It's why we have things like good Samaritan and self-defense laws. None of which are going to help you much if you've decided you want to splatter my brains against the wall behind me."

"That's what insanity pleas are for. But I don't want to kill you. I love you. I want to help you. To be your friend if you can't let me be your lover."

"Is that what this is about? Put down the gun and we can talk about it."

"I know you don't want to. But I'm going to give you what you _do_ want. That's almost as good as being what you want. Almost."

"What exactly is it you believe I want?"

"_Know_. I know what you want. Soon. Things aren't just right yet."

It wasn't until he heard the handle of the door rattle that it all fell into place. _Oh my God, no._ "Hollyann, run! RUN!"

But she only stood there, taking in the two men and the gun. She shut the door after her and put down the things she was carrying. Her face was perfectly serene, as if she'd somehow expected a thing like this, and now she didn't have to wait and wonder any longer. "Dean?"

"Lock it. Then come over here. See? She's doing what she wants. I would have let her go if she ran."

"And she was supposed to know that? I want you to stop this, Dean. And you're not. The old problem, isn't it? If everyone does what they want, sooner or later someone doesn't get to do what they want."

"You'll get to do what you want. Soon." His eyes flicked toward Hollyann, but not nearly long enough for Regal to do anything with the distraction. "Take off your clothes, darlin'."

"Oh, God. Dean, don't do this. Think, man! For the love of God, don't do this to her."

"I'm not going to. You are."

"No. This is not going to happen. Pull the trigger if you're able."

"Shh."

They both turned to look at Hollyann. She met each of their gazes for a moment, then peeled her t-shirt off and tossed it aside. "It's all right, William. Please don't tell him to shoot you again." She nudged her shoes off and wiggled out of her jeans.

"That's enough. For now. She's beautiful, isn't she, William?"

"Yes."

"He's going to agree, isn't he? You have a gun pointed at him."

"He's been arguing with me since he walked in. He likes what he sees. You should go over there and let him have a closer look."

She did. Regal would have sworn there was something cocky in her stride, a strutting sway to her hips. He licked his lips; he'd have sold his soul to take it back a moment later.

Dean saw. Of course. "Man, that's a fuck-me strut if I ever saw one. You want him to, don't you, darlin'?"

"Yes." It was Regal she was looking at, eyes locked with his. They might have been alone for all the attention she paid to Ambrose. Or to the gun.

"You see, William? All you had to do was tell her to get naked and spread for it. I see how you look at each other. How you almost reach out to touch her and then pull back. You're both aching for a good, hard fuck, and you're both too scared to take what you want."

"And how exactly do you see all these things? Spy satellite?"

"I've been watching you for three days. Touch her. You're dying to see if her skin's as soft as it looks, I know you are. Want me to tell her how I know?"

"I'd...be grateful if you didn't."

"Then put your hands on her. Touch her. All over. The way you want to."

He reached almost blindly. His palms found the tautness of her belly. And Christ, her skin was as soft as he'd imagined. He could smell the stuff she used in the shower, ginger and oranges. He took a deep breath, reveling in the scent of it mixed with the warmth of her skin. She arched against his hands, intensifying the contact.

"Tell me how he knows."

_Fucking hell._ "Hollyann..."

"I never thought you could be a coward, William. Many other things, but not that. You haven't noticed you're missing clothes, darlin'?"

She shook her head, utterly flummoxed.

"Dean, for fucksake, _don't_."

"You put them back? Damn, you _are_ kinky."

Regal looked up at Hollyann, hands on the arcs of her hips. Even in the midst of this humiliation, he didn't want to let go of her. "It's...not what he's making it sound like. Not exactly."

"Well, no," Dean said, smiling. "I guess not, huh? I mean, I'd have those panties in the _same_ hand." His smile turned to a grin, and he made a quick, vicious jacking-off gesture. "He had 'em in the other hand. Tell her what you were doing, William. I'd kind of like to know, too."

He couldn't look her in the face any more, simply couldn't. "It was...for the scent of you. It made it better. Like you were there. Watching."

"Or helping?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"God, yes."

"Get closer, darlin'. Give him the real stuff. Give him a good taste."

She took one step closer; Regal pulled her the rest of the way to him. The touch of her silky little knickers against his face had become familiar, but the heat of her, after so long only imagining it...

He knew he should be gentle with her. He couldn't. With a moan that sounded like a cry of pain, he pressed his mouth to her, sucking, biting, licking at her through the slick cloth. He felt her hands clench in his hair, heard Ambrose laughing softly. It choked off into a groan as Hollyann started grinding, moaning and pleading for more. This time, he didn't have to be goaded into giving it; he pulled away from her just long enough to hook his fingers into the elastic at her waist and pull the tiny bit of cloth to her ankles. She stepped out and pushed them out of the way with her toes.

He barely gave her the chance. Nothing in the way now; she was his, vulnerable, naked in his hands. He plunged his tongue into her, and it wasn't long before her moans and gasps turned to tiny, yelping sounds that rose to a long wail of pleasure. She swayed dangerously in his hands, her knees folding under her; he shifted his hands to the small of her back to support her while she found her balance again. He looked up into her face in wonder; she was laughing, tears streaming down her cheeks, touching his face like something she'd never seen before.

"I can, I still can. Thank you, thank you."

"I told you, William. I told you she needed you, not anyone else. Isn't that so, darlin'?"

"Yes. My God, yes."

"And you're ready for him to give the rest back to you?"

She looked into Regal's eyes, her own burning. "Please. Please do that for me."

"You never have to beg me for that, flower. Christ, if I had any sense, you wouldn't have to ask at all." He stood and scooped her up, carried her the half-dozen steps to the bed, and settled her gently on it. He smiled wryly at her. "Brace yourself."

She watched avidly as he undressed. No, it wasn't the weightlifter-underwear model body she was so used to seeing all around her. He'd lived too much of a life in it for that. But there was solidity and strength in the broad-shouldered, deep-chested shape of him, and a sense of intense masculinity that made her thigh muscles quiver. She was, she thought wonderingly, about to be had by the first grown man in every sense of the term that she'd ever been with.

He stretched out beside her, running his fingertips over the wings of her collarbone until she was gasping at the sensations. He slid his hands under her and dispensed with her bra. "You are so lovely. Are you aware how much it seems to me you dropped from the skies into my lap?" Before she could answer, he bent and drew one of her nipples into his mouth. It was already hard as a pebble against his tongue; a couple of swirls of the tip of his tongue and she shuddered and moaned under him. He teased the other the same way, then felt the welcome sensation of her fingers digging into his back, pulling him, encouraging him to take her.

Still he hesitated, his own howling need notwithstanding. It was so soon; if she truly wasn't ready...

"Don't leave me like this, baby. Please."

He couldn't have.

He was waiting for some sound, some response, that said it was too soon after all; that never happened. She responded with hunger, with pleasure, and with an eagerness to please him that set his nerves ablaze.

Ambrose responded as well, with a groan and the unmistakable sounds of zipper and urgent friction. Regal muttered a curse. He was aware they were going to be Ambrose's live porn for the day, but still, it galled him.

"Shh. He's not even here. Don't stop."

She came for him half a dozen times, arching to meet his thrusts, moaning and gasping with pleasure. It was driving him mad. He didn't even think, not until it was too late for him to have any hope of pulling out, that he wasn't wearing a condom. All he could do was hope she was protected. She didn't seem worried about it; if anything, his cock swelling in her as he neared his own orgasm only drove her to try to pull him even deeper into her.

It was a few minutes before his brain started sending clear signals to his nerves again: _Lunatic with a gun behind you, idiot. Remember?_ But Ambrose was gone, and apparently the gun with him. Regal had no desire to go see what he might have left behind.

He started to move, to give Hollyann space she must desperately want now. Her physical pleasure in what they'd done didn't change that it had been coerced; not even the fact that he wasn't the one who'd done the coercing changed that.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and whispered four words that froze him in place. "The gun was empty."

"You're certain?"

She nodded.

"When did you know?"

"When he told me to go over by you. Empty chambers all around. You can tell looking straight on like that."

"You can, maybe."

"You didn't know?" Something hurt flickered across her eyes; he couldn't sort it out.

"My experience with handguns is more or less nil, flower."

"Mine isn't. I'm a good American hick from the sticks."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You would have stopped. I didn't want you to stop. I thought you didn't, either."

So that was it, that wounded flicker he'd seen. "You think I made love to you only because he was holding a gun on us?"

She shrugged in a twitchy, hurt way, like she was trying to fend off a blow to a place she'd already been hit in over and over. "I knew it was empty. You didn't. What would you have thought if it was the other way around?"

_Ouch._ "If that were my only concern, I'd have done it as quickly as I was able, to get him and the gun the hell out of the room." He smiled wryly. "I didn't think I'd raced to the finish line quite that quickly. The mad little bastard was right about one thing: He forced me to do something I've been wanting very much to."

She looked up at him finally, eyes still hurt and wary. "You mean that? Prove it."

"Gladly. But you're going to have to give me time, flower. I left the 15-minute recovery of age 19 behind a long time ago."

She smiled. "All right."

He kissed her. Thoroughly. That he could do, at least. And it did seem to ease her. "Show me where you come from. I've never seen The Sticks."

"You say that like it's easy. Find a map of Minnesota. And it better be one hell of a good one."

Google to the rescue. He got the laptop, brought it back to bed, and called it up.

"Click. Right there." She tapped a highway that looked like a stray hair on the screen, and utterly barren. He clicked; still barren. She laughed. "Nope. Do it again." She laughed even harder. "Again."

He did it nine times before she grinned and pointed. "There it is. Home sweet home."

There was still no town name showing, only a cluster of six or so very short streets. "Bloody hell. How many people are there?"

"32. Now that I left."

"Thir- Fuck me."

"I did that already. It was fun, too."


	7. The One That Rings My Chimes

Between hunting for tiny towns and demonstrating to Hollyann that it didn't take a gun to inspire him to runaway lust for her, Regal didn't find the note until the next morning.

_Are you two the fuck out of your minds? Almost two weeks in one place? People recognized you, man. You look so sexy grocery shopping, William, even on some rube's phone camera. I never thought lettuce could get me that hard. GET THE FUCK OUT OF TOWN._

He couldn't help himself; his first thought, beyond his control, was _And how hard DID he think lettuce could get him?_ His second was that Ambrose was right. Again. They had to get moving.

He handed Hollyann the note. The look on her face nearly made him sit down and have a good laugh in spite of it all. He had the feeling she was going there, too. "Yes?"

"I...think it's going to be a while before I eat a salad again."

He couldn't shake the feeling that Ambrose was herding them somehow. It wasn't a matter of where; that was entirely of their choosing, and random. It was that they were going at all. He hadn't had time to think, to weigh their options, to make any sort of plan. It was run, run, keep running. And it was wrong. He prided himself on being intelligent, rational, clear-thinking. He'd been none of those things in the past two weeks.

"We're staying here."

She looked dubious, but nodded.

He did what he should have been doing right along: He sat down and thought.

He'd taken Hollyann from the hospital because he'd had serious questions about the care she'd been getting. He still had them. And then along had come Ambrose with vague intimations of threats from some _They_. And naturally he'd assumed those things were related. Ambrose had let him assume that. He'd never said who They were. Christ, he'd never even given him the message from them he was supposedly carrying. He'd turned the whole thing into getting the fuck he wanted. And then?

And then when he was caught in a lie, he'd deflected it: They and Them again. He'd turned up the panic dial, and they'd fallen right into it, hadn't they? Run. And they'd done just that. And then Ambrose had found them again. How? Maybe the way he said, or maybe he'd just followed them; they hadn't been especially careful about looking for pursuers.

What if there was only one pursuer? And now that he'd had what he wanted again, he was back to what had worked before: They, Them, and Run.

The more he thought, the more he came to one conclusion: What had happened to Hollyann and the hospital's behavior after was one issue. Ambrose was another. There was no They, and the only one pursuing them was Ambrose. There wasn't one problem to address here; there were two.

Or possibly there were three. Why wasn't to simply be ignored. What the hell did Ambrose want?

What he'd already had twice, for one thing: Sex, directly or otherwise. Regal thought he knew what else: Dependence. Trust. Maybe just having them to himself for a while. And he'd handed the man all of that on a plate and never questioned it for a moment. Because he wasn't thinking.

The first matter at hand was doing what he should have from the start. He sat in one of the chairs outside the door of the cabin and took out his phone.

"I've been waiting for a call, man. How's your vacation?"

"You could have called any time you pleased, Hunter. My number's not changed."

"Would you have talked to me?"

"Probably not. Not until about a half hour ago."

"The girl's with you?"

"She has a name."

"It's like that, is it? Is she with you?"

"She is."

"Tell her I'd like to talk to her. Some things have changed."

"A great many things would have to change before talking will do much good with her."

"What about with you?"

"I have some questions of my own. I'd prefer to see you answer them face to face. If you can fit that into your busy schedule, of course."

"Man, don't you do that, too. You know I've got time. You think she'll come back with you?"

"It seems like a foolish thing for her to do, considering you gave her rapist your blessing to do as he pleases with her in the future."

"No, I didn't. And he knows that. That little bitch who set him loose on her is out of a job, you maybe want to tell her that. And word's out; she won't work anything better than thirty-buck-a-night gigs from here on. If even those will hire her."

But not Batista. Well, it was to be expected, wasn't it? "I'll talk to Hollyann."

"And try to convince her?"

"Absolutely not. But I won't try to dissuade her, either. This is her decision."

"Fair enough. How much longer did you figure on being AWOL?"

"Through the weekend. There are a few loose ends I'd like to tie up first."

He told Hollyann what Hunter had said and what he expected it meant: She'd be offered her job back. She was shaking her head before he finished, which didn't entirely surprise him.

"Hush money."

"Yes, flower, it is. But they'll have you hushed with or without it. Take every dollar of it from them."

"I can't. I can't go back there. Not with _him_ there, no matter how many lectures the boss gave him. I can't face him." She stared out the window for a while in silence. "Or any of the rest of them."

"Why?"

"They know. They all _know_. I know what they'll be thinking when they look at me." She shuddered. "I can't."

That also wasn't really a surprise. "It's all right, flower. Come back with me and we'll see what can be done."

"When?"

"A few more days. There are some things I'd like our guardian demon to answer for first."

He almost gave up on that for the time being; they'd have to spend most of their third day driving, and by the evening of the second, there had been no sign of Ambrose. He sat outside, waiting.

_Come along, then, Dean. You're curious by now - dying to know why we're still here. If your game is up. Come and find out._

It took another hour.

"You know."

"Yes, I do. I should have much sooner. Well played. Come sit yourself."

"You're not angry?"

"Yes. But not enough to shatter the peace of this place by beating you bloody. I'll do it nonetheless if you don't explain yourself. _Sit down._"

Ambrose sat, grinning. "Maybe it's because I want you to do that. Or maybe I'd be the one to do it to you. Again."

"You'd find me a different animal with no rules at all in place, Dean. You know that. What was all this for?"

"You were mine. Both of you. I liked it."

"Oh? It's both of us now, is it?" There was an edge to his voice; he didn't bother restraining it. "What exactly is your interest in Hollyann?"

"I wouldn't hurt her, William, not ever. She's yours."

"She's her own."

"Is she going back with you?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then she's yours. You never even thanked me for that."

"She knew the gun was unloaded."

"I know. She stopped paying attention to it all of a sudden. You should have known, too. I wouldn't have pointed a loaded gun at you."

"Oh?"

Ambrose raised a hand, pointed in a gun shape, to his own temple. "Nope. Would you have still? If I did this instead?"

"Yes, I suppose I would have."

"She would have, too. She wanted it. She still does. You should close the curtains when you fuck her. Anybody can see."

_Marvelous._ "Civilized people don't go about peeping in windows, Dean."

"Who said I'm civilized? You looked like you were enjoying that blowjob this afternoon. A lot. She must be good at it. Was doing it on her knees her idea or yours?"

"Playing this game again, are we? It was her idea. And yes, I enjoyed it very much. You're not going to distract me this way any more, either. Tell me, and be plain for once: What is it you want from us? Specifically, from her. I already have a good idea what you want from me, don't I?"

"You said I have to accept that you don't love me, or even want to fuck me. You said you can't. _She_ could. She likes men just fine." He smiled in a way Regal would have sworn was teasing, even playful. "You've got some stamina, old man. She likes a _lot_ of it, doesn't she? I could help you with that. Take some of the strain off."

"It's not exactly a burden, you know. And what makes you think she would ever agree to that?"

"She would if you told her to. I've seen what she does for you. She'll do anything you want."

"There are limits to everything. And I'm not going to ask her to do that."

"She might like it. I'd be sweet to her. I know how."

He seriously doubted that. "Don't get any ideas about approaching her with this. And if you act on it, Dean...I will burn down your life and piss on the ashes. Are we clear on this?"

"I would never hurt her. I love her, too."

"And would you show it the same way you've shown me? Trick her into sex? Try to deafen her by bashing her head into something a few dozen times? Or maybe a knee to the temple?"

"NO! No, no, no. I'd never do that to her, never."

"Because you love her."

"Yes."

"And yet you say you love me, and you did all those things to me."

"It was the only way you'd let me touch you. And it took so long to make you even do that for me."

"What happens if she doesn't let you touch her, Dean? What will you do to make _her_ do what you want?"

"It's not like that, it's not. I want to share something with you, something that matters to you. Why not her?"

"You're not doing much for my confidence in you when you speak of her as if she has no will of her own."

"I'll show you. I'll show you how I feel. Then you'll know." He jumped up from the chair; Regal was a hair's breadth from throwing him into a wall, but he took off across the courtyard that connected the trio of cabins.

_It had to be done_, he thought, getting up to go inside. _What he wants is beyond madness._

He went to Hollyann, who was looking at him fretfully; she had to have heard the whole thing, or at the least enough of it to piece everything together. He folded her up against him, not saying anything, just enjoying the sensation of her breathing against his chest. _I did what I had to for her sake. There's no other way. So why do I feel like such an utter bastard?_


	8. A Rose in December

Regal looked at his watch and sighed. "Stoutly, upon the ramparts."

"Could you maybe tell him I'm sick? Projectile leprosy?"

"He's not going to sprout fur and fangs, Hollyann. I promise. He's going to make a business proposition. That's all."

"Right on time. Not that I expected less." Hunter held open the door of his office. He shook his head when they both moved toward it. "William, how about you and I have a chat on our own first?"

He glanced at Hollyann. She'd gone several degrees of pale in about a second and a half. "It's all right, flower. You're safe here." He was going to have to do something about this, he saw now. She couldn't go in constant terror of being alone.

She picked up something glossy, with pictures of ridiculously expensive houses. She looked in its general direction, flipped pages, and saw nothing.

It was her turn about ten minutes later, and she was obviously expected to do it alone, too. She followed Hunter into his office.

William had managed to clarify a few things, but the rest was up to her. She might just decide to throw over the whole thing and go home. If she could find it. She was a long way out of her element here, which could only make it all that much harder for her.

Hunter escorted Hollyann back into the reception area, nodded to Regal - who wasn't sure exactly what the nod was supposed to mean - and went back in his office without another word.

"Well, then?"

"I took his money like a good girl. It wasn't his idea I wouldn't have to work for it, was it?"

"No, it wasn't."

"All right."

_She's furious. What in hell happened in there?_ "I have the strangest feeling I've managed to do something terribly wrong, but I'll be damned if I know what it is."

"No. Please take me out of here."

He changed his mind on the way to the hotel; she wasn't angry. She was deeply, profoundly hurt. "Tell me what happened, Hollyann. What did he say to you to make you not able to look at me?"

"Nothing. He didn't have to say it."

No, this wasn't good. "Hunter has been my friend for a good many years, but that doesn't change one fundamental truth about him: He enjoys twisting the knife that extra bit, and he's quite talented at it. Tell me, Hollyann."

"He said you wanted them to pay me."

"You deserve that at the very least for all - Oh, Christ."

"I don't have a job, not officially. No work to do."

"But he insinuated you're drawing your paycheck to spread your legs and keep me happy."

"Am I?"

He snapped the steering wheel around, sending them to the curb in a screech of tires and a blare of horns. "You think that? _Do_ you? That I'd make a whore of you?"

"What is it, then?"

"This was their idea, Hollyann, not mine. Yes, I think you should take the money. If you truly don't want it, stuff it in a church poorbox. But _take_ it from them. And as for the other...I would never do a thing like that to you. Not ever. If you need me to keep my hands off you to make the point, I will. I won't pretend to be happy about it, but I'll do it until you look me in the face and tell me you believe me."

"I do. You don't have to do that. And I don't want you to. William, I'm sorry. He just..."

"I know. He's good at it. And I know that, as well. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you better for the possibility. I suppose I thought old acquaintance would keep him from having his little joke. And yes, that's more or less what he thought it was, count on that: A little dig at my expense, likely as not for throwing the spanner in things that I did by taking you from that hospital. Come here, flower."

He took his time kissing her. He wanted to make sure he did a thorough and quality job of it.

* * *

The strangest thing about all the strangeness was how normal it began to seem. Hollyann was starting to think that William might manage to get home six or seven days a year; he didn't spend a lot of time in the ring any more, but he worked hard and traveled harder. She didn't mind making that her life, too. Which, she was fairly sure, made her a woman crazy in love. She did her best to show him, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him. Ambrose had the market cornered on crazy and on saying those three little words to him.

He wasn't prone to ordering her around - though she sometimes thought he might like to just a little - but he put his foot down about one thing, not to be moved: When he was at work, she wasn't to be. He wasn't happy with the idea of her being there when he couldn't keep an eye on her. She didn't make even a token protest. She didn't want to be there. They still knew. They'd still _look_.

She'd thought for a while that Emma was avoiding her, and that stung. It turned out she was right, but not for any reason she'd have thought. Cameron set her right on that.

"She's got something going with Sheamus. Looks like something good, too. But she's been thinking you'd be mad about it."

That hadn't been hard to straighten out, and she thought Cameron was right, too; they had a good thing happening. Things were more strained with Sheamus, but Hollyann was hoping time would mend that.

The only cloud was the one that always seemed to be hanging over them: Ambrose. But for a change, it was that he _wasn't_ hovering. Hollyann had seen him once since they came back, and that was in the first few days. William said he was turning up for matches as he was supposed to, but he hadn't seen him outside that, either. "He seems in a black mood, but it's hard to say with him, isn't it?" It was like waiting for a storm to break.

Break, it did - but that took another two weeks.


	9. Yelling at a Flower Don't Make It Bloom

Hollyann was alone with a book and fully expecting to stay that way for the afternoon. She was deep in the Amazon jungle with a bunch of explorers who mostly seemed to her to be catastrophically stupid when something thudded against the door of the room hard enough to shake it in its frame. She jumped up and the book went flying, but she had new habits now, didn't she? She grabbed her phone and stood at the far side of the bed waiting and listening.

Somehow even the soft tapping on the door sounded sleazy. "Special delivery, sugarbuns. Come and geeeeeeeeet it."

When hell froze over. She'd never spoken to the man personally, and hoped never to, but she knew Bray Wyatt's voice when she heard it.

"Aww, you don't want to come and say hello? That's all right. Another time."

_Shit, shit, shit._ William couldn't possibly get back before all hell broke loose, but calling him was her only option. She was halfway through scrolling through numbers when she heard a sound it took her a few seconds to identify: Something being dragged along a wall, thumping over doorframes, getting more faint as it went on. _Like he wants me to know he's leaving. Or to think he is._

She waited as long as she could bear, long after the sound had faded. She looked out the peephole, twisting every possible direction. She couldn't see anyone. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Dean Ambrose fell halfway into the room. He looked like he'd been put through a meat grinder, then beaten with it.

He was smiling.

"Hi, darlin'. Sorry I didn't call first." He could barely get the words out before a fit of coughing made any more impossible. It looked like it hurt. A lot.

There was no way she was going to be able to lift him. That only left one choice; she had to get the door closed. "This is going to hurt. I'm sorry."

He laughed, a hoarse, barking sound that cut off in a strangled groan as she grabbed him under his arms and dragged him inside. She got him as far as the bed, but she wasn't going to be able to get him on it. "Can you get up on the bed? I'll help as much as I can."

He shook his head. "Thought you'd never ask. But I'll have to take a rain check."

She took a pillow off the bed and put it under his head. But she couldn't leave him down there. She finished the call she'd started to make.

She could clean him up a little while she was waiting, at least. She went into the bathroom and came back with four wet washcloths. She wiped a lot of blood off his face, some caked, some fresh. There were other things, too. She thought she knew what at least some of it was. She wished bleakly for some gloves.

It took William about ten minutes to get back. His eyes went to Hollyann first, but he visibly relaxed - maybe even smiled a little - when he saw she was unharmed.

The smile, if it was ever there at all, faded quickly when he turned to look at Ambrose.

"Gently, William. He didn't come here by choice. Or under his own power." She explained what had happened.

"All right. But we're going to have this out once and for all." He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Dean?"

"I knew I'd get you back in bed one day, William."

"Stop it. Tell me what's happened to you."

"How much detail do you want? Are you into that after all?"

"Answer me, Dean. What have they done?"

"Aw, they just partied a little at first. I've done that before. No big deal. I can do that for you."

"For me? What in hell are you talking about?"

"They said they'd hurt you. Her, too. _Especially_ her. They would have."

"I know they would. So instead you let them hurt you."

"I told you. I said I'd show you. You see now?"

Regal covered his eyes and groaned softly. "You've been doing all this - getting us to leave and to travel randomly, shadowing us - to keep us out of their way."

Ambrose nodded.

"And how did the sex games fit into all this?"

"That was just for me. I felt so much better. You were gentle. With her, too. I liked it."

"Dear God. Why didn't you tell me what was happening?"

"I love you. I took care of you both. I've _been_ taking care of you."

It wasn't the first thing he'd said that sent up warning signals. "Dean, how long have you been doing this? How long have you let them do this to you?"

"After you got her out of the hospital, they came and said they could get to her if I could. They could get to you, too. But they wouldn't if I did what they said."

"Dean..." He reached up and brushed the younger man's fringe of hair from its perpetual place in front of his eyes. Then it hit him, all of it. He went back to Hollyann. "We need to get Reigns and Rollins here. They need to know what's happened. I can't think they'll be any happier about it than we are."

"Even Reigns?"

"I think maybe him in particular."

"I'll see what I can do."

The call took longer than their arriving after it did. Reigns looked like he was looking for something to kill. Rollins looked more thoughtful.

"What did you do to him, you son of a bitch?" Reigns spun, lunging for Regal, who stood silent, not offering any defense, physical or otherwise.

Hollyann shoved between them. "Don't. Would we have called you here?"

"Maybe. To gloat."

"Roman, wait." Rollins put a hand on his chest. It was hardly enough to stop him, but it did work. "Would they? With her here where we could get at her?"

"Yeah, all right. Who _was_ it, then?"

"Wyatt," Hollyann said softly. "It was Wyatt and his...family. They dumped him here."

Reigns growled something blackly furious and went to Ambrose. Regal followed. "He's been badly used," he said in a voice meant to not carry beyond them. "More than just this incident, I'm fairly sure." He saw something pass over Reigns' face like a stormcloud. He put a hand on the Samoan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, man. Truly sorry." He left them alone; it seemed the best thing to do.

The conversation quickly took an unexpected turn when he got back.

"Oh, fuck. He's been telling you _Roman's_ doing this to him? Dude, Roman's never laid a hand on Dean, not like that. We...we thought it was you. He'd never say."

Regal wasn't sure why he believed Rollins. Maybe it was that he'd always seemed the nicest and most stable of the three. By quite a bit, in fact. "And you?"

"Me?"

"He gave me the impression Roman was ah, cheating on him with you."

"Oh, holy shit. No, man. I'm straight. Roman's got no time for anyone else anyway. So if it wasn't you, either..." The confusion cleared from his eyes; now he looked frightened. "All the times he came back banged up? It was them, all of it? Why would he _cover_ for them?"

"To protect us. They threatened us. Hollyann in particular." He nodded toward the bed. "I understand what he was protecting, and maybe he does, too. Do you?"

Rollins looked. Hollyann was standing next to the bed, Reigns' head cradled against her stomach, stroking his hair and speaking too softly to him for any of them to hear.

"All right, man. All right." Seth shook his head. "You know he's gonna murder them, right? One at a time, all at once, doesn't matter."

"And you?"

"I'm gonna help. If he'll let me."

They figured out a way to move Ambrose to his and Reigns' room with as little pain as possible. Regal asked for a few minutes alone with him first. Reigns didn't look happy about it, but Rollins talked him into it; it seemed to go a long way toward easing his mind when Regal agreed Hollyann could stay. She took back her spot on the couch across the room.

"You have a great deal to make up to him, Dean. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah. I didn't mean to make everyone think that. A lot of them did without me saying anything. So I let them."

"If you'd give him a fair chance..."

He shook his head. "I love you."

"I know you think you do, Dean. But this isn't love. You have love all mixed up with...I don't know what. But Roman can do something for you I can't ever do."

"I want what _you_ can do for me. What can he do that I want?"

"Love you back."

"I want you to."

"I know. But it isn't going to happen. You know that, don't you? Never mind all the rest; you've known it right along. I can't change my ways, but you can change yours. You and Roman don't have the, ah...logistics in the way that we have. Give him a chance. Can you do that?"

"I can try. Can you give me a kiss? You know, for goodbye?"

He smiled. "I can try." He cradled the back of the younger man's head in his hands, tilting it back and kissing him gently.

Hollyann didn't realize she was holding her breath until she saw William smile and pull back a bit, giving Ambrose a gentle thump on the top of his head with his fingertips. "Stop that. I said nothing about tongues."

"Had to try. More?"

"No, I think you've had quite enough. I've got someone waiting for me. So have you."

He let the others take care of moving Ambrose. There was no use in prolonging it, and as he'd said, there was someone waiting for him.

He thought he'd be providing the comfort, but she had other plans. How he ended up sitting on the floor with his head in her lap he wouldn't be able to recall later. He surely didn't mind being there, though.

They ended up stripping the bed, throwing the lot on the floor, and sleeping on a bare mattress for the night; the sheets were a ruin. William wasn't entirely convinced the maid wouldn't call the police when she saw them. He thought it would be wise to check out before Housekeeping arrived. They were trying to hustle into the elevator as the maid arrived pushing a cleaning cart.

"Wait. I have an idea." Hollyann went back to the room, where the maid was piling up towels to change out. She talked for a minute or two with a very earnest look on her face, money went from one hand to the other, and she came back smiling.

"What was that about, then?"

"The solution to our little linen problem."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Do you really want to know what I told the maid I did to the sheets?"


	10. A Vessel Unbroken

"Roman, come on, it's me, right? What are you thinking about doing?" Seth was starting to think the Samoan simply wasn't going to answer him.

"I know what somebody oughta do to them, man."

"But not you."

"Not me. But I'm gonna make them pay, Seth."

"_We_ are."

Roman shook his head. "You don't have to - "

"Look, all right, so we're not...like the two of you are. Dean's my friend, and so are you. I want to. Tell me what you want to do."

"I'm going in after them. To that sewer they call a compound, where they don't expect it. Burn them out, like a snake nest. And cut off all their heads when they come crawling out on their bellies."

It took three weeks for everything to fall together perfectly: They were ready, Dean was recovered enough to be left alone for a few days, everyone was off the road, and Roman had found the reporter who'd been to the compound and come back with a map. He'd said the man was very reluctant to give up directions, but that was all he'd say about how he'd gotten them. He brought two things with him: a five-gallon can of gasoline, and the most frightening-looking club Seth could have imagined existing.

"Is this Samoan?" Roman was driving, so he took the opportunity to take the thing off the back seat and have a closer look. It was wooden, about three feet long, heavy as hell, and viciously toothed on one face. At the business end was a huge, sharp hook.

Roman nodded. "It's in my family. Back when things were simpler, that's how you took care of somebody who fucked with someone you loved."

Seth looked up, startled. He knew it, of course; he had for a while. But it was the first time Roman had come anywhere near saying it, at least to him.

They walked the last mile in silence through mucky, swampy land thick with mossy trees. The house was dark; if it hadn't been painted white, they might not have seen it until they crashed into it.

"Got anything against taking them in their sleep?" Roman whispered.

"Not a damn thing." But they weren't there. Seth didn't know how he knew it, but he did. Wherever Wyatt and his fucked-up little family were, it wasn't here.

It didn't take Roman long to figure it out too, once they were inside. Seth could see him getting more and more furious empty room by empty room. But they'd left plenty of weird behind.

"What the fuck do you think _that_ is?"

Seth peered around Roman, who'd paused in a corner of the attic. There was a drawing on the floor in something yellow that didn't really look like paint. There were mounds of melted wax in a neat circle around it. "I don't know. A deer antler? A tree branch maybe?" It seemed like something he should remember, though he wasn't sure why; he took a second, careful look at it before they left the attic.

The basement was last, and once it was obvious there would be no Wyatts to be found there, either, Roman snapped, roaring in rage and frustration and wrecking everything in sight with that club. Seth decided there wasn't much chance of calming him down, so he moved toward the other side of the basement to see if there were any more weird objects or drawings around.

He was in the back of the basement, or he might not have heard it at all: A woman's voice calling faintly for help. _Pleading_ for help.

She was naked, so filthy he almost didn't see her the first time he looked, and chained to the floor. There was a look of wild, tottering-sane hope in her eyes. "Are you real? Oh my God, are you _real_?"

"Roman! Holy fuck. _Roman!_"

Roman charged in, club raised and ready to swing. He dug his feet in to stop when he saw the woman. "Oh, holy shit."

She said nothing, made not a sound, just watched him, eyes enormous, until he remembered to lower the club. "Take it easy, girl. We're going to get you out of here."

She burst into tears, but even those were weak and faint. She was in a bad way. Seth crouched beside her and offered her his hand. She clutched at it like her last hope of not drowning.

Roman was inspecting the restraint on her ankle. The cuff looked welded shut - which he was sure must have been painful for her - and there was an industrial tie-down cable run through it. Nothing he could do there. He took a closer look at the bolt in the floor the cable ran to. It would have to be that; there was nothing he could see that would take a key, assuming they had any hope of finding one in this place.

He wrapped a double loop of the cable around his hand; that took nearly all of the slack in it. _The bastards didn't give her two feet to move. I wouldn't do that to a dog._ He gave an experimental pull, and thought he felt the bolt shift a little. Very little. He got hold of it with his other hand as best he could, then leaned back on his haunches and pulled as hard as he could. There was a definite shifting this time. He stood as much as he could and threw himself back as he yanked; the bolt made a small, screamy sound and pulled free about an inch.

"Want some help?"

Roman shook his head. "Hold on to her, make sure I don't pull her over on her head."

The next time, the bolt came free. It did dump him over, but Seth kept the woman from following. Roman pulled the cable out of the cuff and the bolt; they'd have to figure out how to get her out of the cuff later.

Seth picked up the bolt, running a finger over the powder on it thoughtfully. Roman had just pulled out a hunk of metal embedded about six inches in concrete. _Mental note: Stop pissing him off. Forever._ "Can you get up, miss...uh?"

"Miranda," the woman said softly. She tried to stand and failed miserably. Roman caught her before she hit the floor. "Get her out to the car. I'll be right behind you."

"Give me your shirt."

When Seth took the woman's other arm, Roman let go of the one he was holding and peeled his shirt off. It would cover her, more or less.

Seth felt mostly ribs when he picked her up. _Fuck, how long has she BEEN here?_ She went dead weight in his arms - not that it made much difference - halfway up the basement steps. She was unconscious. And probably happy to be, too.

It was a slow walk back to the car; he tried as hard as he could not to jostle her. He had no idea if she was injured, or how much. Roman was definitely not right behind him. He wasn't really surprised.

He'd gotten the woman into the shirt and in the back seat when Roman jogged up behind him and put a purse in his hand. "I hope that's hers. The less of her they find in there, the better." He threw the gas can in the trunk; it sounded empty. The club went in with a lot more care.

Seth noted the glow of the sun rising behind them as they drove away. It took a minute to register that it was in the south. And that it was quarter to three in the morning. "You lit it up."

"Damn right. They'll have to find another hole to crawl into, at least."

He hesitated over it, but finally dug in the purse. The pretty, smiling woman on the driver's license he found might have been the one in the back seat, but it was hard to say.

"Where do we take her?"

"According to this, somewhere in Colorado I've never heard of. We'll have to bring her to my place."

Roman shot him a look.

"Come on, man, really? The couch folds out, remember? It's not comfortable, but I can sleep on it. She ought to see a doctor, but there's no way, is there?"

Roman shook his head. There would be way too much explaining to do.

He still hesitated to leave the woman with Seth, but not for the reason that had raised the protest from him. "If they go looking for her, they'll get around to us sooner or later. You want me to stay there?"

"I've only got one couch, man. Besides, you want to get home, don't you?"

Roman gave him what was almost a smile. "Yeah, I do. Call in the morning, all right? She's got to have one hell of a story to tell. I want to hear it."


	11. A Vessel Explained

It wasn't as simple as tucking the woman in his bed and pulling out the couch, though that was what Seth had planned on. In good light, just how covered she was with dirt and who knew what else became clear. He wouldn't want to stay like that a second longer than necessary, let alone sleep like that, but she couldn't take care of it herself. If there was going to be a bath, he'd have to give her one.

It was all the leaves and junk in her hair that decided it; there were even pebbles tangled in there. He wasn't really sure why that offended him more than anything else, but it did. He ran a bath that walked the line between warm and hot, and after a moment's pause, dumped in a big glop of body wash; it was all he had around. She was going to smell like Drakkar Noir, but he doubted she'd mind that. It was an improvement over musty basement and soured dirt.

The water brought her around to a kind of bleary semi-consciousness. He was braced for her to freak out at being naked and bathed by a stranger, but she accepted it as if she didn't quite comprehend it. When he started tackling her hair, she tried to help, but her hands didn't seem to understand what she wanted of them.

"It's all right. Let me."

It took over an hour and three tubs of fresh water before she was clean. He kept up a steady stream of soft talking, about anything and nothing. It seemed to soothe her.

Clean, she was obviously the woman on the driver's license; they'd lucked out at least once tonight, then. He gave her one of his shirts, and she managed to struggle into it herself. It didn't cover her quite as well, but it was enough, and Roman's shirt was filthy even from the brief time it had been on her. She was almost out again when he put her in his bed. He left the hall light on and the door open, thinking she probably wouldn't be happy in the dark for a long time, if ever.

He'd tried to balance courtesy with necessity, and he hadn't seen any obvious injuries on her while he'd bathed her, other than her skin under the cuff being raw and inflamed. He'd have to figure out what to do about that thing as soon as he could.

He couldn't sleep. He wasn't looking forward to the couch to start with, and he was just too wound up besides. Let there be internet.

He had to dig out her license again to get the town. Plugging it into Google with "missing persons" tacked on the end generated a cold case, but it was very obviously not her. The real education was the Wikipedia page about the town, which was tiny and seemed to be mostly hippies and new-agers with a scattering of monasteries in the mix. She had a story to tell, all right, and even the normal part was probably pretty strange.

He ended up falling asleep in front of the computer. When he woke, she was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and watching him with what might have been the makings of a smile on her face.

"Hi." He felt like an idiot as soon as he'd said it, but what else?

"Hi back. Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome. Are you hungry?" She just about had to be, didn't she? She was a tiny thing, but she still looked like she could use about 25 pounds on her.

"Yeah, kind of a lot. If you were out much longer, I was going to raid the cabinets."

He went in the kitchen and rummaged. It wouldn't have been much of a raid. He pushed aside a lot of stuff that he didn't think she'd even be able to hold down, if she'd been as starved as he was thinking. His brain dredged up that soup would be a good idea, and he managed to find a can. It was even chicken noodle. What she had going on made a cold pretty much a joke, but it seemed like the right idea anyway.

He watched her force herself to eat slowly. It looked like what she really wanted to do was jump in the bowl face-first. He started talking to help her slow down. "How long were you there?"

She thought about it for longer than she should have. "I don't know. What's today?"

"Thursday."

"The date?"

_Oh, duh._ "March 13."

She thought some more. Her eyes looked like dinner plates. "2014?"

"Yeah."

"Two months. I was there almost two months."

_Fuck. And yeah, that too, huh?_ "Did they...? Oh, shit. You were naked..."

"No. There was a lot of freaky stuff going on there, but I think that might have been the freakiest. They never did anything like that. The leader...he was going to. Eventually."

"Eventually?"

The first ghosts of what she'd been through washed over her face. "He said...he said the stars weren't right yet."

"The _hell_?"

"I don't know. That's what he said, and more than once, too. I don't think it was about sex for him. Or rape. Those other two, yeah. He kept having to order them away from me. But he wanted..." It finally caught up to her; Seth was amazed it took that long. She choked on the words, then visibly squared up. "He wanted to get me pregnant. To breed. He kept calling me a vessel and telling them they couldn't defile the vessel."

"Damn. We all knew Wyatt was nuts, but...fuck, I'm so sorry you went through this shit. That sounds really lame, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't. It could have been worse. It almost was. He was talking like it wouldn't be much longer. The stars or whatever he was waiting for. He was starting to tell them when it was all over they could do what they wanted with me." She shivered and went pale. "I don't think even the gators would have wanted what would have been left of me."

"Maybe you should start from the beginning. I mean, if you can." Roman had said he wanted to hear this, but he could have it second-hand. No way should she have to do this more than once, and he was afraid if he stopped her, she'd lock it up for good.

She thought for a long time; he waited. What finally came out couldn't have surprised him more. "Don't hitchhike. It's really fucking stupid."

"You got in a _car_ with them?"

"Not willingly. When I wouldn't get in, they dragged me. The leader...Wyatt?"

Seth nodded.

"He kept talking about things being ordained, and how I was...given to him. And _touching_ me." She shuddered; she looked close to tears, but she fought them down. "My face mostly. And here." Her hand drifted down to her stomach, but she stopped before it made contact. "He let me have the run of the place at first, until I tried to get away. I think he really thought at first that I'd be, I don't know, happy? Honored, maybe. He was so pissed when I ran. I thought he'd kill me, I really did. He locked me in a room upstairs instead. I climbed out a window as soon as I could get it open. That's when he put me in the basement. They fed me sometimes, maybe when they remembered, or maybe they were keeping me too weak to run. I don't know."

Seth pushed his bowl over to her. Suddenly he really didn't want it. She looked embarrassed, but she didn't turn it down. "What now?" she said, studying noodles with sudden great interest.

"First thing, we've gotta get you some clothes. You can't leave the house like this." He smiled. "And a toothbrush. Sorry I don't have a spare."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"You don't have to be in this. You've already done more than I could have asked from a stranger."

"We were in it before you ever came along, Miranda."

"What _were_ you doing there?"

"They...messed with a friend of ours. We were looking to get some back for him." He was starting to think they'd gotten a lot more back than they'd expected to.


	12. A Vessel Disputed

Seth knew Roman hadn't gotten the revenge he wanted and needed; there hadn't been any screaming and bleeding. He was kind of wanting to see some of that himself. What he _was_ getting to see, and liked just fine, was Dean and Roman finally dealing with the stuff between them. He thought they could have a good thing if Roman could just get Dean to let go of his weird obsession with William Regal. And judging by the very self-satisfied look on Roman's face, he was making progress on that.

"How's our buried treasure doing?"

Seth flopped on the couch. "She's pretty tough, man. And Wyatt's really, really fuckin' weird."

"We knew that."

"This is way beyond, Roman." He told Roman what Miranda had told him, watching the big man's eyes first widen, then narrow.

"She still at your place?"

Seth nodded. "I'm gonna go get her some clothes. She can't even go out and do it herself with what she's got to wear." He smiled. "Wanna know what kind of panties she likes?"

"You're buying, so you can tell me what color, too. You all right with her staying with you for a while? I think maybe she should, until we can figure out how much Wyatt does or doesn't want her back."

"I'm going to talk to her about it. I'm all right with it. I don't know how much she'll be."

"Convince her, man. At least until we know."

Seth was a little surprised that Miranda needed no real convincing to stay with him. All she seemed to be worried about was paying him back. It was the last thing he was concerned with. He thought it was hilarious, though, that she considered the weirdest thing of all to be what he did for a living, and that she'd landed in the middle of it.

She _was_ going to be in the middle of it, too, at least the travel part. He wouldn't have minded her being at his place alone - he didn't think she was going to rob him or anything - but there was no way to be sure of her safety. All Wyatt would have to do was leave one of his minions behind, and there she'd be, alone. Roman never questioned that she should go along with them; to Seth's amazement, neither did Dean.

It wasn't so much that he expected Dean to be an asshole about it, though that was entirely possible. But he hadn't seen her the way they'd found her; he didn't _know_. But for whatever reason, that apparently didn't matter. Seth had to take some shit about not wanting to give up his new piece, but that was all. He was going to be a lot happier if Miranda didn't hear that, though. And no doubt, so would she. She'd settled on Roman mostly being okay, but Dean pretty obviously made her nervous. It wasn't going to take much weirdness to do that, not for a long, long time.

She wasn't happy about being left at the hotel, but she did listen to reason. It was the same problem that leaving her at his place would have created: They couldn't watch her every minute at the arena. All that had to happen was their being in the ring and the Wyatts not. She was safer behind a nice, locked hotel door.

When she grumped mildly that she wanted to see him at work, he turned on the TV and set the channel. "Live and in color. Just...don't be surprised if you see us being kind of shitheads." He smiled. "We kind of are." He wondered how she'd take the violence. There was a basic gentleness about her that he liked a lot. It was definitely a contrast with everything else in his life.

They didn't intend it to be a gentle week, either. They'd missed their chance at the compound. They were going to have to take what they could get in front of the cameras. It wouldn't be enough - not for Roman especially - but it had one benefit: Dean would be there. And Dean needed a chance at his own retribution.

_All this talk about justice, and we're finally looking for some. And no one can ever know it._ But they would know it; they _did_ know it. It did the rest of what Dean and Roman finally facing up to their feelings had started. The rifts were healing in the light of their having something really important to fight together for. Seth was relieved. Being peacemaker wasn't fun for him, and it wasn't something he'd ever considered himself very good at.

They'd decided to take the direct route. The Wyatts were up against 3MB; The Shield didn't intend to let the match reach a conclusion. As they hit the ring from the crowd, Seth saw McIntyre make a quick assessment of the situation and call his partners away from the ring. Slater looked like he didn't like Drew taking the wheel that way, but he put a big cork in it when he got a good look at the look in the Scot's eye. Not to mention the kind of unnerving smile on his face. _When he decides to climb out of the clown car, he's gonna spend about a year fucking people up to make up for lost time_, Seth thought. _And I bet I know who's first._

He wasn't surprised that Wyatt seemed almost happy about their arrival. He was only glad the crazy bastard couldn't say much about Dean or what had happened there. Not on TV, he couldn't, not if he wanted to still be employed tomorrow.

"Rollins. You have something that belongs to me."

_Well, there's always that instead. But how the fuck does he know?_ Seth was focused on Wyatt, but he saw from the corners of his eyes Roman and Dean step up to either side of him. Yeah, it was good to have this back again. "You're really one sick bastard, you know that?"

"I'm touched. Return the vessel to me, Seth. You have no claim to her. Or use for her. I have both."

He could see confusion at the announcers' table; they had no idea what the hell was going on here, and they weren't hiding that fact from the audience. "The fuck you do. If you think I'm just going to hand her back to you..."

Roman's mouth quirked in an almost-smile. _There's your first language fine._

"Oh, I didn't really think so. It's more fun the hard way, isn't it? But you have no idea what you have there. I do. She'll be exalted, the vessel to bear my successor. Can you exalt her, Seth? Can you even bring yourself to root around in her like the beast you are, let alone that? You want to, don't you?"

"Go to hell, freak."

"Oh, that's a sore spot, is it? What's wrong, did she turn you down? Or do you just not have what it takes? I do." He leered at Dean; it was like watching a snake smile.

Wyatt was trying to goad one of them, any one, into rushing the ring alone. Seth knew that, and knowing didn't matter a bit. He still wanted to. He felt Roman grab a strap on the back of his vest. "Be serene. If I can stand here looking at the smug bastard's face, so can you. We go together, just like we should."

He knew what they were waiting for. Rowan and Harper weren't close enough to Wyatt. It would be too easy to flank them if they charged in now. All three needed to be committed to being in a smaller space. Eventually they would; Wyatt's minions didn't like being very far from him for long.

When the moment came, they charged the ring. Roman was making a sound that came in somewhere between a scream and a roar; people sitting ringside were looking a little flipped out by it.

Their revenge was still far too incomplete, far too brief. Wyatt saw how things were in a hurry; he let his minions cover his escape, watching from the top of the ramp as they eventually made their own.

_This is important_, Seth thought. It stopped him in his tracks, wide-eyed. _Remember this, it's really, really important._ It was the second time in about a week he'd had this kind of mental traffic-stopper. It wasn't something that usually happened to him.

"You all right? You checked out there for a second." Dean was watching him narrowly.

"I'm good." He wasn't sure if that was true, but he couldn't figure out how to explain what had just happened.

There was more explaining than that to do; Hunter was waiting for them backstage, and he was furious. "What the hell was that?"

"Seth stole his girlfriend. She got glasses and, boom, that was it." Dean shrugged elaborately and smiled in a way that actually made their boss take a step back.

"Listen, I don't give a shit where any of you are sticking it after hours. That's your business. But bring it to TV again, and you're all going to find yourselves fired. Am I clear?"

"Yeah," Roman said quietly. Seth thought this might be the time when Hunter should really take that step back. "Yeah, it's clear. But we didn't bring it anywhere. They did. Wyatt did."

"Yeah, and I'll be having this little talk with them, too. You just keep your own asses out of trouble."

It wasn't likely. Not at all.

Miranda was all but jumping up and down when Seth got back to the hotel.

"Did you see it? Did you _see_?"

Seth nodded, assuming without even thinking about it that they were talking about the same thing, though he wasn't sure why he'd think that.

"He assumed they'd go down to protect him, and that they wouldn't expect him to do it for him."

_Holy shit. That's it, isn't it?_ "And they assumed all that, too. That's what's going to fuck them up eventually. They think they do everything together, as this 'family'. And they don't, they aren't." _But we are again. We almost blew it, but we are._

They stared at each other, suddenly aware of what was happening. They were damn near group-thinking, and about a subject she by all rights should be entirely clueless about.

_And I shouldn't be. But I needed her to light the fuse on it._ "What the hell's going on here?"

All she could do was shake her head; she didn't know, either.

"Listen, the stuff he was saying...I'm sorry about that. But I'm not gonna snap and jump your bones some night, okay?"

"It would be a little too close to the literal truth yet, wouldn't it?"

He couldn't really read the tone of her voice, but he thought he might have hurt her. He certainly hadn't meant to, true though it was; she was still woefully thin. "I didn't mean it like that. Just...my dick isn't going to override my brain, all right?"

"All right."

His mouth was open to ask the next question before he realized how bad it was going to sound.

"What?"

"Well, shit. I'm hungry. Do you want to go get something to eat?"

She stared at him for a good five seconds, then burst into laughter. He liked that better than the wounded look. A lot better.


	13. A Vessel Identified

Seth wasn't sure when it happened, but it did. Miranda had stopped talking about leaving every time a possible opening for the topic appeared. He'd replaced the horrible couch with something a lot better when she'd finally refused to steal his bed from him any longer. She'd started leaving little things around the place. He'd sit on the couch, catch a trace of vanilla and cocoa butter in the air around him, and know she'd been there putting on body lotion a few minutes earlier. He had a roommate.

He wanted more. As she recovered from her ordeal, physically and mentally, she seemed less like a damsel in distress to him and more purely a woman, and one he wanted. He was starting to have some very vivid and detailed dreams about going to her out there and showing her just how enticing she was to him.

It startled him - not that he wanted her, but that it was so intense so fast. And so...weirdly specific. All the dreams ended the same way: He held her down, forcefully sometimes, and came in her, as deep in as he could. No matter what he was doing, even if she was sucking him off, he sheathed himself in her before he came. If she was struggling in a particular dream, she always stopped then, and always came as he did - _because_ he did, it seemed like. Even if she didn't want the sex - and she didn't in some of the dreams - she wanted that. It had never been a huge issue with him; you have sex, you use a condom. But the idea of doing that with her made him almost angry. He didn't understand it. But he made sure when the dreams were especially intense that he stayed away from her until she was awake and dressed. He intended to keep his promise.

He was giving her that space when someone knocked on the door. It was a measure of how comfortable she was here now that she went to answer it. What she opened the door to set that comfort back a long way.

"Seth?" It came out as a squeak the first time. It didn't the second.

"SEEEEEEEEEETH!"

He shot out of his room, jumping a footstool and single-hand vaulting the couch. He came down ready to tear whoever it was a new asshole.

"We need to talk."

Seth looked up - way up - at Undertaker. "Uh...come in?"

Taker shook his head and handed him an airline ticket folder. There were two tickets in it, dated three days away.

"Bring the girl." He walked away before the questions started.

Seth turned to find Miranda staring at him, eyes huge. "He's one of them. He _has_ to be."

"No. I don't know what he wants, but there's no way he's one of them. Take my word on that."

"Are we going?"

"I don't know yet. I've gotta talk to Roman and Dean first. They need to know about this."

He was a little surprised when she asked to go along. She was still freaked out by Dean. Maybe meeting someone she could be even more freaked out by did it.

Count on Dean to get right down to what was bothering him, too. "I don't know, man. He has plenty of reasons to not like us. What are you gonna do if you get there and he's got those three freaks sitting there waiting for you?"

Roman shook his head. "If he wanted to do that, he could have just brought them along."

"So are the tickets for Death Valley, or what?"

Seth smiled. He'd never admit it to Dean, but he'd had to look himself, just to be sure. "Houston. And directions to someplace a while way from there." There was even a car rental number.

"I still don't like it. I say don't go."

Roman paused, chewing over it. "Go. We need to know why he even wants to talk to you, and I don't think he's going to say if you don't go."

Seth nodded. "I say go. Sorry, Dean."

"Sorry, nothing. We ain't heard all the votes yet."

He was right, but he didn't think Dean would have brought it up if he'd been on the winning side. "Miranda?"

"Let's go. I'm tired of being scared all the time. And maybe he has some answers. Why else would he want me there, too?"

* * *

"Come look at this."

Of all the things Seth might have imagined he'd be doing tonight, sitting in a book-crammed study watching Undertaker adjust a telescope wasn't on the list. It wasn't even on the list of things that weren't on the list. But the first thing he'd done was take Miranda out to a workshop and get rid of the goddamn cuff on her ankle; Seth was ready to roll with the weirdness for the sake of that alone. He looked into the viewfinder, then stepped back so Miranda could look. It was centered on a faintly orangish star.

"That's Aldebaran. It's the star Wyatt was waiting for. It would have been tonight. But he's not going to find you here. It wouldn't do him any good if he could."

"Then it's over?" Miranda's eyes were lit with hope.

"Aldebaran won't be in position relative to the two other stars involved for another seven years."

"Then it is. It's over."

"If he could take you again tomorrow and hold you for that seven years, he would. It's not over."

"Why? I'm...nobody."

"I think that might not be true." Taker went over and sat down in front of a computer. Seth had had enough of not knowing stuff; he walked over and looked over his shoulder. Taker glanced at him, but said nothing about it either way. "What's your last name?"

"Najera."

He typed it in. If this was some kind of genealogical website, it didn't look like any Seth had ever seen.

"No. What's your mother's maiden name?"

"Armitage."

Taker sat back and laughed heartily. "And sometimes things are easy." He turned and dug in a file, then handed Miranda a photograph.

Seth walked around the desk to her and looked at it. It was obviously old, and looked hand-tinted. The man in it was maybe in his 70s, beard and hair snow white. Seth glanced between the photo and Miranda's face. There was something...the eyes, maybe.

"Who is he?"

"His name was Henry Armitage. He was...a librarian." Taker sounded amused. "A librarian with the soul of a warrior."

"What did he do?"

"He looked evil in the face."

"And evil blinked?" Seth couldn't help himself.

"He sent evil back where it came from, whimpering for its daddy." He considered the two of them, heads still bent over the photo. "Why don't you go for a walk, missy? Take one of the dogs with you. Take a couple of them if you want; they'll mind you."

She gave him a look that was with crystal clarity, _A walk. Yeah. You bet._ But she went. Three of the dogs trailed after her; she didn't seem to mind the company.

"Man, this had better be an excuse to tell me what the fuck is going on here."

"It is. Sit down." He'd spent the days between invitation and visit considering how to approach this. The girl's revelation about her origins had changed some things, but the core remained: He was about to talk complete insanity to an angry and very protective young man who _had_ to believe it. Ideally, he would believe it tonight.

"You think Wyatt is a nut. And you're right, as far as that goes. He's insane. He's also very dangerous. He has dangerous allies."

"Rowan and Harper? They're not ballerinas, that's for sure, but - "

"Not them. Yog-Sothoth."

"Yog what?"

"Sothoth. Some people call it a god. Or a demon. They're all right, in a way. Wyatt has somehow managed to contact it. This Sister Abigail he keeps talking about, I doubt she was human, not entirely. And judging by some of the things he's said, he's begun to identify with it, as well. I could have gone the rest of my life without hearing 'Eater of Worlds' again."

"So the crazy cult has a crazy god. What does that have to do with Miranda?"

"The man who I'll assume is her maternal great-great-grandfather went up on a hill in Vermont, a 70 year old man with two colleagues, two incantations, and an insect sprayer full of a very special powder. He sent one of Yog-Sothoth's spawn back where it came from. He was also indirectly responsible for the death of its twin."

"And this thing wants revenge? After what, 60 or 70 years?"

"Closer to 100 years. Yog-Sothoth is for all intents and purposes eternal. And has a very long memory. If Wyatt is in contact with it as I believe he is, he knows who she is. Raping her and forcing her to give birth to his child would be apt revenge for the loss of the ones Armitage dispatched. And that child would be formidable. Especially if it had been conceived tonight. You did more than you know when you took her away from there."

"He's not getting her back. Not while I have anything to say about it."

"I've noticed that. Have you? Really?"

"That I'm not enough of a creep to let those freaks have her back?"

"That you're just a bit hyper-protective of her for a stranger. And that you're not laughing in my face about any of this. Is there anything else I should know about?"

Seth thought about it. There were things. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell this man about them.

"Let me guess. You complete each other's thoughts. She trusts you, probably much more than she should in so little time. And you want her. Just as Wyatt said. Very much, and more every passing day."

"That's not so weird, is it? She's attractive."

"Your type usually?"

"Well, no. But still..."

"Tell me about the dreams."

Seth jumped out of his chair. "The _fuck_?"

"Sit down. They go with this territory."

He told him. He hesitated over the really weird parts, but he finally told it all.

"I'm not surprised. They'll start fading after tonight."

"Are you telling me this Yog thing is trying to make me fuck her?"

"Not Yog-Sothoth. Those from Outside are rarely benevolent, but some are not malevolent toward humanity. Nodens watches." He reached for a well-thumbed book. "Read this passage."

The whole thing was weird, but something in particular caught Seth's eye. "Dogs."

"_Hounds_. I've found few things in this world are accidental. I don't think your timely arrival was. You can make Wyatt leave her alone. At least as far as this vessel business is concerned."

"How?"

"He needs an unbroken vessel. Break it, and her usefulness will end."

"Break...If you're telling me I have to hurt her..."

"Do you not realize what unbroken and undefiled mean?"

It took him about ten seconds. "She's a virgin? Really?"

"We can safely assume it, yes. If you do what you already want to do, this ends. This part of it, at least."

"That's going to make him leave her alone? Just like that? How's he even going to know?"

Taker smiled to himself. This one wasn't just going to be led around. Or pushed. It was a good sign. "He'll know. You're going to have to take my word on that, but I'm sure. He _will_ know. He knew what she is, didn't he? Do you think he's been grabbing random women and taking them in for an exam?"

"Yeah, I guess not, huh?"

"Did you notice anything strange at their compound?"

"I didn't notice anything _not_ strange."

"Let's say more weird than the background level of weird, then."

It popped into his head like someone had pointed to it: The antler. "There was this drawing on the floor in the attic. I don't know why it seemed like it was more weird than anything else, but it was."

"What did it look like?"

Seth grabbed pen and paper and sketched it. "Like this. But it was yellow. Painted, I guess. It didn't look like any kind of paint I've ever seen, though. What is it?"

Taker looked at the drawing, eyebrow raised. "It's a sign against evil. One that actually works."

"I'd have thought they'd have stuff _for_ evil. Welcome mats."

"They almost certainly did, but not where they would have been visible. But just because they can invite things in doesn't mean they're safe from those things. Not without some help. Apparently they know that much. Too bad. It would be nice if all we had to do was sit back and wait for what they're tampering with to turn on them and eat them alive." But it was never that easy, was it?

"For now...go to her. Ask her if she'd like to be rid of Wyatt for good, and tell her how. Man to man, do you think she's going to refuse? I see how she looks at you. And how you look at her."

"No, she won't turn me down. She wants it. I can feel it. It comes off her like radio waves. It _is_ her, isn't it? If something's just making her think she wants it, that's no better than what Wyatt was going to do."

He resisted the impulse to cheer. He'd had his own reasons to doubt what this man was made of, but those doubts were rapidly fading. "It's being...amplified, in both of you. But not even those Outside can create what doesn't exist. And are you prepared for the likely results? The ending of all these dreams isn't meaningless."

"I won't abandon her, if that's what you mean. But what happens if I decide not to do it at all?"

"Then I'll do it."

Seth stared at him, eyes flat and increasingly furious.

"Broken is broken as far as Wyatt's concerned. She wouldn't like it as much, I'm sure, but I also doubt the end result would be the same. She ought to have some say in that, too."

"I'll tell her. All of it. That, too." He left abruptly.

_Probably before he tried to rip my liver out and eat it in front of me. I've lost some ground with him._ But it had to be done. If he'd had to guess which one of them would be it, it would have been Ambrose. If he'd been allowed to hand-pick, it would have been Reigns. But this was looking more like the best possible outcome all the time. He flipped a switch on the desk and turned toward a monitor set up on the only wall not dominated by bookshelves.

He did so enjoy watching nature in action.


	14. A Vessel Broken

Seth decided he'd better start with the outright crazy stuff and get it out of the way. It felt way beyond creepy to wait and tell her that after he got laid.

_Yeah, you go right on assuming you're gonna._ The thing was, he did assume it. The look in her eyes when he turned up at her bedroom door didn't change that at all.

The dogs she'd left the house with had apparently decided they were her faithful guardians. Three hounds at her door. It was just a little more than he wanted to think about right now. They didn't show him any aggression, but he did have to step over them to get in her room.

It felt like some kind of enormous, awkward double-entendre, but there was nowhere else in the room they could both sit, so they sat on the edge of the bed while he explained. He wasn't surprised when she reacted much as he had to the total madness he re-explained to her. She was calm, accepting, and looked as if he were validating what she already knew rather than telling her anything new. "He can explain better than I can. Way better. He said he will tomorrow."

"Then why did he send me away, Seth? He could have saved a lot of time and trouble telling us both at once. What did he tell you that he didn't want me to hear?"

"He said I can make Wyatt leave you alone."

"You've _been_ doing that."

"Completely, Miranda. No more of this 'vessel' shit."

"Is that what you came in here to do?" She smile at his startled look. "Virgin doesn't equal stupid, Seth. I've been...thinking about it. A lot lately."

"So have I. But there's one thing. He thinks...well, I think he does, anyway...that you're going to end up pregnant if we do. You're not on anything, are you?" He'd assumed not; she had no reason to be, and Wyatt would surely have taken any pills she had away from her.

"No. Seth..."

"I know." He couldn't look at her suddenly. "He doesn't think he'd get you pregnant. Just me."

"Why?"

"Hell if I know. But...it's an option. This is your choice."

"I'm the one who has to live with the results, right?"

"_We_ do. Miranda, if it happens...I'm not going to walk away from you. Or from our baby, either. Maybe it won't happen. I don't know, these things can't control _all_ of it."

"I want it to be you. Even if...that happens. Even if you can't stay. You. No one else. You've kept me safe all this time. Don't stop now, please don't."

He was sure later that the hardest thing he ever did in his life was take it slowly. He wanted her in a blinding, furious way - not to hurt her, but to have her, to take what was his, and to take it away from Wyatt. To take it away from everyone.

"You're mine. You were always mine, not his." The words felt like they were leaving his mouth without his actually saying them.

She nodded and leaned in to kiss him tentatively, almost shyly. He went from half-hard to ready to punch through concrete in about three seconds. And still he took it slowly; the only thing he wanted more than to bury himself in her was for her to want it again.

She instigated nothing; she seemed genuinely unsure what to do, or how. But she responded eagerly to everything he did, and when he had both their clothes off, she finally went out on her own a little.

"Can I...? I've never..." She blushed about the color of a fire truck, and Seth stifled a laugh. It was adorable, but she wouldn't know that was why he was laughing.

He stretched out on his back on the bed, hands behind his head. "Go ahead."

At first all she did was look, and even that was enough to make his cock twitch and strain toward her. She seemed fascinated with that. When she reached out and ran her fingertip over the head, he nearly screamed.

"It's...wet."

"That's your doing, sweetheart."

"It is?" She leaned forward and licked him; this time the scream did escape, but he choked off most of its volume. She, meanwhile, looked thoughtful. "Mmm. You taste like Chinese food." She leaned forward again, this time taking half the head in her mouth, getting a really good taste.

Seth groaned. He was starting to wonder if she was being a lot more of a tease than she should know how to be. "Baby, you need to stop that. For now, anyway. Come here."

She did. "Did I hurt you?"

He nearly choked. "No. No, it didn't hurt. But it...could get to be all I want you to do tonight. Another time." His mind delivered a perfectly clear image of him standing over her, directing her, teaching her how to do it just the way he liked. He thought his brain was going to break.

Slowly, yes; but he didn't think he was going to be able to stand a whole lot more foreplay. He hoped she was feeling as turned on as he was; there was a way to find out. He slid his hand down her body, feeling her arch to the touch. She hesitated when he reached the junction of her thighs, but she parted them for him with a little coaxing. He slid a finger into her, loving the sound of her responding moan. She was wet, but he didn't have to go in far before she gasped and pulled back from him. And just like that, it was real, all of it. She'd never done this before, and she was scared.

"Stay still for me, baby."

She settled back down, but she was nearly hyperventilating.

"Somebody told you it was going to hurt, didn't they? I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." He slid his finger into her as far as he could. She moaned softly and tensed, but didn't try to get away again. "Relax, sweetheart. Nice and easy." He started moving his finger in and out of her, more stroking her than thrusting. When he heard a much different moan than the first, he added a second finger. She was tight, and all he could think of now was how she'd feel around him as he slipped into her. No more; he couldn't wait any more.

She watched his face, eyes wide and starey, as he moved over her, parting her thighs further with one hand.

"You trust me?"

She nodded tensely.

"It's gonna be so good, baby." The thought flickered across his mind and jumped out his mouth before he could defend against it: "The best you've ever had."

She looked at him for a few seconds, absolutely agog, then started giggling. He pressed into her as she was laughing. Her laughter choked into a gasp. "Oh, God. No, Seth, please...It's too much, I can't, please..."

She was driving herself into a panic attack; he could hear it happening. "Shh, Miranda. You can. You're made for this, baby." He groaned and shuddered as he sheathed himself completely in her. "You feel so fucking good, girl. Take it for me, all of it."

She nodded again, her hands sliding over his shoulders, fingers digging into his back. He was moving more aggressively in her now, and she was responding to it, arching, whispering his name.

"That's it, baby; it feels good, doesn't it? So good."

She was making sounds that resembled _yes_ more than saying the word. He wanted her to come, but he didn't think it was going to be, not this time. She was just too goddamn tight, and whether it was the dreams, the sensations, or some combination of them, he was ready now, and he wanted to let go as deep in her as he could get. He slipped his hands under her and lifted her into long, deep strokes that had her making noises entirely made up of vowels.

He felt like he was flooding her, like he could drown them both. She came - like the dreams, just like them - and he felt the spasming muscles inside her milking him, pulling what he was giving her as deep into her as it could go. _Mine now. She's mine. Part of me's in her, so deep in her._

Taker watched the monitor, for the moment more fascinated than turned on. Slightly more.

It wasn't just fucking, but it certainly wasn't lovemaking, either. _Mating_, he thought. _Push human beings far enough, deep enough into their sexual instincts, and that's what you get. Him claiming his mate._ He knew he shouldn't watch once it was certain the required act was done, but he wanted to watch. He wished briefly for recording capabilities in there, but that was a bit much, wasn't it? And just watching was stimulating. Attractive people having intense, hungry sex - what was not to enjoy?

It _was_ very intense. The look of pleasure on Rollins' face was almost one of agony; so was hers. He wondered if Rollins was cognizant enough to realize that shouldn't be. For her first time, she was enjoying it far more than she should. Sometimes even distant Nodens might grant a gift. The hound takes his mate, and his mate rises to him.

He switched to a different camera. The three dogs that had gone with her on her walk were curled up in front of the bedroom door. He usually let all nine out to run the grounds at night. Not tonight. Let them stay.

He sat up reading, the sound on the monitor turned low. They woke four times before dawn, tangled in frenzied and ecstatic coupling, then collapsed into sleep again. He didn't think they'd be much use to anyone but each other until well into the afternoon.


	15. A Vessel Emptied

They never knew what they'd find waiting for them when they got back to the hotel. Miranda was clearly disturbed by the pack beatdowns she saw, but she accepted them as how things were.

When Roman walked in the room, he was met with what would have been a flying tackle if she'd been big enough. She was far from it; he caught her, laughing at the unexpected greeting. It turned to a gawk when she kissed him on the cheek, then wiggled away from him like an armful of water.

His jaw damn near bounced on the floor when she gave Dean a kiss, as well. She was gone before he could put his hands anywhere. He looked like she'd hit him over the head with something, instead.

Seth got a kiss that was neither quick nor on the cheek, which was a shock to no one. She wiggled away as his hands were starting to find things to do. She was beaming at all three of them.

"What did we do to deserve that?" Roman was smiling back at her. It was just about impossible not to.

She shook her head. "It's what you _didn't_ do."

Lawler, of course.

Dean shook his head. "That was about Kane, not about Lawler."

"Silly, that doesn't matter."

They were all staring now.

"Look, if you take a suitcase full of money to keep a bus full of kids from going off a cliff, it's the kids that matter, not the suitcase. The money's just...bonus material. You did a good thing."

She was back wiggling against Seth. He looked like he was enjoying it entirely. "Yeah, we'll see you guys later." He didn't quite pick Miranda up and carry her out of the room, but it was close.

Dean laughed and flopped on the bed. "What do you suppose we gotta do to get some of what he's about to get?"

"Start looking for out-of-control buses."

It took about ten minutes for the noises to reach the point where they couldn't ignore them any more. It wasn't the first time. Dean didn't seem at all ashamed of listening. Roman shook his head. "You need some distraction?"

Dean's mouth was open to answer when the headboard started banging against the wall, hard. Miranda's voice came through clearly; it sounded like it was about four inches from his left ear: "Yes, there, right there...Ooooooooh fuuuuuuuuck!" The headboard-banging got considerably faster.

"Sounds like someone's gettin' reminded who gets _all_ the kisses."

"Yeah, he did look a little pissed. Hell, they're starting to get to _me_. Come here."

"What, no 'please'?" Dean was smiling, though, and he did move over to the bed Roman was stretched out on. He could tell for himself they were getting to him. He rubbed the most obvious evidence and Roman groaned softly. "You gonna tell me you wouldn't like a taste of that, too?"

"If I got it as good as he's getting it. Which I probably wouldn't. There's...a thing there." Roman watched as Dean undid his fly. "Yeah, that needs taking care of."

"I noticed." He bent and sucked the bigger man's cock into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat.

Roman groaned again, louder this time, but grabbed Dean's hair gently, stopping him. "You sure this is how you want to go?"

"Yeah. It just looks like it wants to be sucked."

He still looked so surprised to be asked what he wanted. Roman thought he'd really have done something about all the ghosts when that didn't happen any more. There were a lot of them. _And they do this really, really well._ Sometimes it was time to question everything. Sometimes it was time to lay back and enjoy.

* * *

Miranda had the giggles. They got worse every time she looked at Dean and Roman.

"Be good. We probably have the same dumbass expressions on our faces."

It was so easy to forget all the crazy shit, or at least to push it all aside. They were both happier that way, Dean and Roman didn't know the really bizarre stuff and couldn't remind them of it, and they could think of the Wyatts in terms of revenge and more revenge. Roman hadn't had enough; hell, none of them had.

It was easy to forget, and most of all to forget that Wyatt surely hadn't, right up until he made them remember.

They'd all been careless, enough so to forget that curing Miranda's virgin condition didn't make her immune to revenge. Careless enough to bring her to the arena with them; they'd be with her most of the time, and she knew how to lock a door.

It was all fine until after their match, when Bray popped up on the big screen. Rowan and Harper were nowhere to be seen.

"Aw, shit." Roman snarled and took a step forward to grab Seth before he just took off. "We don't know where he is, man. Don't you fuckin' dare go off alone." He glanced at Dean. He was standing stock-still, looking at the screen like he was trying to eat it with his eyes.

"Gentlemen, hello again. I'm sorry we can't all be together, but I've sent my family on an errand. They should be back soon. We missed you on the night the stars were right, Seth. We dropped by, but you weren't home. What a shame. I do wonder where you were, but - ah, another time. I see the errand is successfully completed. Well done."

They knew what they'd see; what else? Rowan and Harper dragged Miranda onscreen, each with a fistful of her hair. Seth made a sound somewhere between a moan and a howl. Roman took a tighter grip on him.

"Easy now, boys. No damaging the vessel. She still has her uses, never mind that she chose not to keep her date with destiny. One day is as good as the next now." He grabbed Miranda's arm and the other two let go of her hair. "I've been waiting, darling."

He stopped suddenly, eyes widening; Roman would have sworn they were spinning in his head.

Bray glared at Miranda. He started laughing like someone had flipped a switch. He stopped just as abruptly.

"SLUT!" It was a shriek, and it startled her badly enough that she had no hope of catching herself when he threw her to the floor.

_Stay down_, Roman willed her silently. _Just stay down._ She didn't. She was halfway up when Wyatt kicked her in the stomach. She went back down hard, arms wrapped around her midsection and gasping for air.

"You son of a bitch! Let fucking go of me, Roman! LET GO!"

He was sure he'd never seen Seth this furious. He wasn't feeling so cheerful himself. He didn't let go.

"You did what I was going to do, Seth. Exactly what I was going to do: Open that tightness and fill it with seed. And you reveled in it, didn't you? In every thrust, every stroke. You still think you're better than I am? More moral than I am?"

"I didn't have to kidnap her to get what I wanted. Or chain her to the floor. Better than you? Yeah, I am." There was no intonation in Seth's voice at all. The words were grinding out of him.

If the whole thing needed that last bizarre touch, the crowd provided it. Roman had to hear the chant a couple of times before he got it: YOU GOT COCK-BLOCKED!

Wyatt heard it, too. He chuckled. "I suppose I did. You took something from me, Seth. I took something from you. Our little gathering is less by one."

The screen flicked to black. Seth went postal. Roman found himself screaming back at him, even though he knew it wasn't helping anything.

"Shut up. Listen to me." Dean wedged himself between them. "While you two heroes were watching what they did to her just like they wanted, I was watching everything else. I know where they are."

They had to kick in the door. Miranda was huddled on the floor, crying in a soft, toneless way that freaked Roman out. When Seth tried to move her, she fought as hard as she was able. Dean pulled him away; it took effort.

Roman knelt beside her. "I'm gonna turn you over now. Stop fighting." He knew what he was going to see; her reluctance for Seth to see it coupled with Wyatt's last words made him sure.

There was blood under her. A lot of it. "Oh, son of a bitch. I'm going to pick you up. if it hurts, you yell, hit me, whatever you have to do."

She started to yell, but she choked it off. Seth heard. Dean was barely able to hold him back. "Don't go over there, man. Really don't."

Roman shouldered past them. Miranda had gone limp in his arms. He thought that was probably for the best. "We have to get her to the hospital. Now."

* * *

"How long?"

Roman thought Seth sounded like what a corpse would if it could speak.

"Five weeks. I'm sorry." The doctor looked like he meant it.

Seth didn't have to do much math to figure out when. "Can I see her?"

"As soon as she's in a room. About 15 minutes." He paused, then nodded slightly as if he'd come to some decision. "You can stay the night if you like."

Seth nodded. He looked like he was on some other planet.

Dean went over and caught the doctor before he left the waiting room. He didn't look glad to be caught. "You gonna call the cops on us now? Or did you already?"

The doctor shook his head. "No." He pointed to a doorway behind the nurses' station; Dean could just see the corner of a TV in there. "I intended to. Four orderlies and two nurses have already told me why I shouldn't. They were very convincing."

This man alarmed him, and he'd seen a few things in 14 years of ER duty. It wasn't that there was no one home in his eyes. That would have been far less unnerving than what was living there. "You aren't going to call the police either, are you?"

"Not one fucking chance, Doc."


	16. A Vessel Returned

They said she was sedated. Seth heard them, more or less.

She was nearly as pale as the sheet folded below her chin. Tears ran freely down her face. They were the only thing moving, and she didn't seem to notice them at all. Someone had left the TV on, muted. He turned it off. She kept looking at it, not seeming to notice the blank screen.

"Miranda? Sweetheart?"

"Thank you for coming. You don't have to stay."

"What?" He caught her chin in his fingers and turned her face toward his. "It's me, honey."

"I know." She tried to turn back to the blank TV again. He held her still.

"Don't do this. Please. Don't leave me alone with this, Miranda. I don't know what to do."

Something behind her eyes tried to break. She didn't let it. "Nothing. There's nothing, Seth. You can't, and neither can I. I didn't even _know_. How could they know when I didn't? I didn't even get to say hello."

This time, it broke. There was one thing he could do. He had a shoulder. Two, if she wanted them.

Later, he thought it was worth all the wet shirts in the world to see her back in there behind her eyes. He sat beside her on the bed, arm around her shoulders, daring with his eyes everyone who came in to tell him he had to move. No one took him up on it.

She stayed lost in thought long enough that he kept checking to see if she was asleep. "I want to go home for a while, Seth. Will you come with me? Can you?"

* * *

There was no trouble over time off. He didn't really think there would be. And he wanted this, too; he was jumping with curiosity to see what this place she came from was like.

"Don't expect much night life," she'd said on the flight to Denver. "Actually, don't expect any. That way if you do get some, it'll be a wonderful surprise."

The drive from Denver was four hours. He drove, and quickly discovered there wasn't much use for GPS; Miranda got him on the highway, told him to stay on it for the next 200 miles, and drifted into silent road-watching. It wasn't like the troubling silences she was prone to now; he thought it was more of watching home get closer.

There was plenty to watch; he was sure it was the most beautiful place he'd ever seen. And then they left Colorado Springs behind them and it got more beautiful.

"Why did you _leave_?"

She laughed softly. "You'll see."

"What, do you come from the only ugly place in the whole state, or what?"

"No. It's even better than this, you'll see. But there's not a lot to do there. In general or like having a future."

He didn't think it was possible that they could climb more, but they did. Over the other side, they dropped into a huge valley; he couldn't see anything that looked like the other three sides of it. He actually gasped, surprised to hear the sound come out of himself.

"There's a pullout a couple of miles further. Want to stop?"

"Hell, yes. How do you get used to this?"

"You don't, really. You think you are, you've seen it every day, right? Then you look up and it's like 'Holy shit, a mountain!'."

He went full tourist at the pullout, snapping about 30 pictures and sending them to Dean and Roman.

_Holy shit, man. You're not coming back, are you?_

_If I'm not back in a month, start wondering._

The voice Dean perpetually called Hot Global Babe started telling him to look for a turnoff after another hour. Dean always swore she wanted him. "There she is, man, every time we get in a car, waiting for me. She's hot for it." He never had a good answer for Roman when he asked if that was so, why was it that all she did was tell him where he could go.

"This is where GPS starts babbling and giggling. Want me to drive from here?"

"Nah, just steer me right."

"Start by not turning there. That road doesn't go anywhere near town."

A while further on, they turned off from two-lane to two-lane if you're being generous. They were suddenly pointed right at a huge mountain.

The town was tiny, and made up of the weirdest collection of buildings Seth had ever seen. Domes, a couple of places that looked like they might be made of bales of hay, brick buildings that looked really old, and a..."What the hell is that?"

"A yurt." She laughed. "Don't worry. My parents live in a house. Four sides, even."

He'd been wondering what her parents were going to make of him the moment she said they'd be staying with them. She was blithely not worried about it. "My family is...different. It'll be fine."

It was. She went flying out of the car into the welcoming arms of a Latino man and a white woman who somehow just screamed old money even dressed in jeans and a t-shirt advertising a music festival. He was glad to see it, and as glad, if a bit startled, when they both hugged him, too.

She'd told them why she was coming home, and exactly who the guy was she was bringing. He was waiting for a whole lot of awkward, but it never happened. They seemed perfectly serene about him, and had gotten one room ready for them.

He thought they liked him all right, and he knew he liked them. He got past the fumbling guest thing after a couple of days, just in time to wake up in the morning to find Miranda gone.

"She went up the hill to see her other family. She said she'd be back tonight." Her mother smiled. "You can go meet her if you'd rather not wait. It's a little bit of a hike, but you look like you can take it."

Directions to the place amounted to her putting a water bottle in his hand, pointing to a little cluster of buildings snugged against the mountain, and saying "Go there." He probably took longer than Miranda had getting up there; he kept having to stop and stare.

He wasn't sure what he was walking toward, so when he was met at the path into the place by a smiling, bald man in black robes that made him think of a church choir, he was surprised, but not stunned slack-jawed. He'd spent the past few days getting over that; this kind of stuff was all over the place.

"You must be looking for Miranda."

Seth nodded. He had no idea how to address the man.

"You must be her young man, then. She's in the garden. I'll show you."

Her young man. He kind of liked that. She was in the garden with another - monk, he supposed? - picking vegetables. She walked over to meet him and led him to the man, who greeted him with a smile and a firm handshake.

"A little more of everything. Some carrots, too, I think. You will stay for lunch, won't you?" He smiled as he handed Seth his basket and left them alone.

"What is this place?"

"A Zen monastery."

"And it's cool we're here?" Her especially, he was thinking.

"They do retreats and stuff for guests. I used to come up here and play when I was little. I liked the men in the funny dresses. They were good with it; that's kind of how things are here."

"What am I going to screw up at lunch?"

She smiled. It did his heart good. "We'll have to find you some sandals. Combat boots and tatami mats don't mix. It's not silent or anything, not today, but don't expect lots of chat. No meat, but I don't think you'll miss it. The guy picking veggies with me was a chef before."

She was right; the food was amazing. He kind of liked the quiet of it all, too. People seemed to be paying real attention to their food, and it invited him to do the same. Miranda helped clean up; he was invited to sit and watch. Apparently she was a slightly different class of guest.

They walked back down hand in hand. "I'm still trying to picture you playing up there."

"I was there a lot. I thought about taking refuge when I was a teenager, but I'm a little too restless, I guess. I wanted to see some world."

She and her father went into town after dinner that night. Seth had the feeling it was dad and daughter time; he didn't invite himself along.

It was more than just that, apparently. When he wandered into the kitchen, he was met by her mother holding a big mug of coffee. "Have a chair. It's about time we did this, isn't it?"

_Here it comes_, he thought. _How dare you touch my daughter, you sleaze..._

"Tell me everything. From the beginning. And before you start doing any mental editing, you should know anything...very strange you might have to tell won't surprise me." She paused, considering him closely without trying to hide it. "We moved here when I was pregnant with Miranda. We hoped to keep her away from those things. It didn't work, did it? We didn't count on her leaving."

He told her. He did edit some of it, the stuff he couldn't imagine a mother wanted to hear about her daughter. But he gave her every bit of the weird; she calmly corrected his pronunciation of some of the really tongue-bending names and never once looked surprised.

"I suppose I knew this time would come. I'm sorry you have to find yourself in it, young man."

"Seth, please? And I'm not sorry. Even with...the bad parts, I'm not. I love your daughter, ma'am." It was the first time he'd said it. It should have been to Miranda first, but there wasn't any helping that. He could make sure she was at least was second, though.

"If you've stood though all this, you must. You're not going to get the reception from us Tony got from my family when I brought him home." She smiled; he thought there was a jag of bitterness running through it. "Their idea of a good man and mine were very different. I'm fairly sure you'd cause brains to explode all down my side of the family tree."

Which might, he thought, be her way of telling him he made her "good man" category. He hoped so. Something about this woman made him want to impress her.

"Hounds," she said, almost bemusedly. "I think your...rather large friend was right." He'd shown her a picture of Taker. That at least had raised an eyebrow. "Nodens watches over you. That isn't always a blessing, though."

"He's not doing so great a job from where I'm sitting."

"I'm going to tell you a rather hard thing, youn...Seth. But this is a hard road you're on. If that child had been born, you would all have spent the rest of your lives hunted. I know something about that; it isn't a good way to live. There's a narrow chance this has put you outside that, taken the mark off you - you and whatever family might be in your future. 'We and you too, you most of all, dear boy, will have to pass through the bitter water before we reach the sweet. But we must be brave of heart and unselfish, and do our duty, and all will be well.'."

It had the feeling of a quotation, but he couldn't place it.

There was another week before he and Miranda could do anything but sleep in their bed together. That and however much longer she needed. They talked a lot before they slept. He asked her if she knew where the quote came from, giving it as best he could remember.

She smiled a bit grimly. "It's Van Helsing. From _Dracula_. I hope she didn't mean it in context, either." She wouldn't elaborate on that.


	17. A Vessel Avenged

They stayed two weeks. Miranda would happily have stayed longer, but she could see Seth was ready to go back. She knew why.

There were two things she was determined to do before they left. She did the first the day before they planned to go.

"We have to go back." She sat on one of the low steps of the meditation hall with the head of the center, drinking tea. It had taken a little convincing to get Seth to let her go alone, but she really needed to. The talk she needed to have with Roshi, she needed to have with him alone.

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you want to?"

They weren't the same question, but it took his asking them separately for her to grasp that. Which was, she thought, why they were in their respective places in life. "I'd stay, but...Seth needs to go back. I'm healing here, but I don't think he has, not really. What he needs isn't here with me."

"You must not think that is a reflection on you, Mir." He was the only one who called her that, after he'd delighted her as a girl by telling her it was a Russian word, and meant peace. "If what he needs did not include you, would he not leave you here where you are safe?"

"Yeah, I suppose he would."

"He is not very much like the people you've known, is he?"

She laughed softly and briefly. "No, not at all. You know what he's going to do, don't you?"

"He is going to do harm to the man who robbed the two of you of your child. He may even kill him. Do _you_ know that? Truly? You have fallen in love with a warrior, and that has a price."

It was on her lips to say she wasn't in love. But there wasn't any use lying to Roshi. There never had been.

The second thing she wanted to do had to wait until that night.

"Seth? Are you still awake?"

"Yeah." _Please, please let this be what I think it is._

She pressed up against him, warm, soft, eager. Her lips on his felt like rain on parched ground. "Want to?"

"You're sure?"

She was. She was clear on the doctor's terms, and ready on hers. And she wanted this before they went back, before she had to give him back to all of them. _You're not going to cry. You're not going to talk to someone about how it feels. Come lose yourself for a while. This is all I have to give to you._

He could feel tension in her, the wrong kind. He knew what to do about that. Stroking, kneading, exploring, he eased her, felt tense muscles unknot and surge into the kind of tension he wanted to feel. _Wake up, sweetheart. Come back to me._

Slow, easy, gentle. The doctors had given him a lecture about that: _Nothing too, ah...athletic for at least six weeks._ He wouldn't have even without the lecture, not until she invited it. He'd had no strange dreams the past two weeks, none like he'd been having. It was as if something here shut the door on them, and on whatever was sending them. He was fine with that. He didn't want whatever it was around right now. He'd be happy if it never showed itself around them again.

But she was still his. Wyatt couldn't change that. Whatever the hell was behind all this couldn't, either. It hadn't created that, and it couldn't destroy it.

So no shouting, no screaming. Just her soft, shuddering sigh and whispering his name as he slipped into her. Her fingers stroking his hair and his face as he moved in her, going deep, deep as he could without hurting. Warmth, welcome. God, he'd needed it so much. She was doing all the things now that he'd been for her - stroking, easing, seeking out tension and probing it out of hiding and away.

"My angel." She was smiling up at him, eyes sleepy with pleasure.

"I've never been that before."

"You are for me."

_An avenging angel. I'm going to be that for you, too. For both of you._

But not now. Now, being whatever kind of angel made her smile that way was enough.

Seth was still unhappy with how quickly Miranda had retreated into those long, distracted silences after they got back, but tonight he was grateful for it. She didn't ask questions during them, and he didn't want to answer any.

He didn't have answers for the most likely ones. He had no idea what he'd have to do to Wyatt, or how much of it, to satisfy himself. _A lot_ was the only thing he could have said to either. He couldn't answer for why he was doing it alone, either. He knew Dean and Roman would help, and probably enjoy it, too; he might even be robbing Dean of the rest of his revenge. But he'd told them nothing about what he was planning tonight. For the first time since they'd formed the team, he didn't think they'd understand.

He made it a whole five strides down the hall before Dean flanked him. "Going out?"

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

"Oh, fucking bullshit, you will. I'm going with you. You were gonna get them for what they did to me, right? I'm gonna get them for what they did to you."

Seth thought about denying that was what he was doing, got a look at the expression on Dean's face, and decided to not bother lying. "Yeah, I can maybe use the help if he's got his laughing boys with him. Thanks."

"You can't kill him, Seth."

He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. "Who said I was going to?"

"I would. All except for one thing. You want to spend the rest of your life talking to her through a plastic screen? Or maybe she can watch you get executed. _That_ would be great, wouldn't it?"

"Shit."

"Yeah, shit. We're gonna fuck him up tonight, man. Bad. But we're gonna stop. If we do it right, he won't go crying to anybody about it, either. He's in enough shit already. The two weeks you were gone he spent in whatever hole he found to crawl into. Hitting a woman ain't too PG."

Roman was waiting for them in the lobby. He was smiling. It wasn't especially pleasant. "What the fuck were you thinking, man? All together or not at all. Just like always."

It was easy, almost surreally so - like something was watching over them, and was just as pissed off as they were. Wyatt was alone, and it was 30 seconds' work to drag him into an alley and throw him in the trunk of their rental. Seth didn't bother asking why it was parked there. But he did take the son of a bitch's phone before they slammed the lid.

They went out into the country, an hour or more, looking for the place: No lights, no houses nearby, and most of all acreage with the tractor gate open. Wyatt was too dazed to fight when they hauled him out of the trunk; exhaust fumes were a hell of a damper on that. They dumped him on the ground, and Seth felt Roman push something into his hand. He glanced at it; it was a wadded-up pair of plastic gloves. They'd obviously prepared for this better than he had. All right, then. He put them on.

Seth didn't remember much of the next half hour, not after he started kicking. He mostly remembered that it felt good. At some point, with the other two holding Wyatt - who was way beyond having to be held by then - he said the only thing he would the whole time. "If you ever touch her again, if you ever fucking breathe air that was in her lungs, I'm gonna know. And I won't stop."

He went back to kicking; he couldn't seem to get enough of it, right up until Roman pulled him away.

"That's enough, man. He's coughing blood. How about you turn the car around? We need a few minutes alone with this sorry excuse for a man."

He went. He had a good idea what they were going to do, but he was content with not knowing for sure. Not that the screaming wasn't clue enough. Wyatt still had some of that left in him, coughing up blood or not. It started out loud. It got a hell of a lot louder a few minutes later.

He didn't ask when they got back to the car. He just hit the headlights, threw it in drive, and got them the hell out of there.

Seth had no real idea how Miranda would react to what he looked like. All he could do was go back to the room ready for anything from hysterics to horror.

She put down the book she had in her hand and surveyed him calmly. "You're all right?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Come to bed."

"Shower first, then bed."

She gave him enough time to get in the shower before she walked in and slipped in there with him. She took the soap out of his hand and started putting it to slow, thorough use, neck to waist, tossing aside the washcloth and using her hands instead. It felt fucking amazing, and by the time she went to her knees to finish, his were starting to not want to hold him up any more.

She didn't linger over his cock, washing it as she had the rest of him, but she went back for seconds when she was done. She smiled up at him as one slippery hand found his balls, stroking, squeezing gently, sliding all over. He let her go on doing that until he couldn't stand it any more, then lifted her to her feet. She pressed against him, trapping his hard cock between their bodies, letting it slide on wet skin.

He'd had enough. He felt like something was tapping Morse code on the animal part of his brain: _You fought for it. It's yours for the taking._ He lifted her onto him; the low, growling moan that broke from her as she rode down him shot along every nerve in his body. But it was a long way from six weeks yet; what he wanted - what he was sure she wanted - he couldn't do. He pushed her back against the wall of the shower, laughing at the soft, frustrated sound she made when he started fucking her slow and deep, taking his time with every thrust. Even the sounds she made when she came had an edge of frustration to them; it was hot as hell, and he finished with her, feeling every pulse of it in her sudden tightness clenching around him.

He carried her to the bed; she wasn't even able to step out of the tub under her own power. Naked, dripping, and not caring, they tangled in the sheets, hands teasing and enticing, but both too exhausted to do anything about it.


	18. Meet Me in This Lonely Place

Dean was surprised when he didn't have to pop the look on the door to the hotel roof. He liked to sit up there and watch the lights, enjoying the quiet and the chance at the freshest air he was likely to find in any town. Most of the doors were locked, even if the locks weren't anything impressive.

It didn't take long to figure out why this one wasn't; someone was up here ahead of him. She was sitting on the roof ledge crying in huge, choking sobs that threatened to topple her over the side. And he recognized her.

"Hollyann? What are you doing up here, darlin'?"

She turned her head enough to see him, then burst into laughter through the sobs. It had a jagged, unstable sound that he didn't like at all. "Go away, Dean. Just leave me alone, can't you please?" It sounded more like a warning than an order: _You don't want to see this._

"No, I don't think I'm going to do that."

"It isn't your business."

"Why not tell me, and I'll decide that for myself."

"Just go away. _Please_."

"No. Come here and talk to me."

She shook her head fiercely enough that he was sure it would overbalance her. He started moving toward her.

"So here we are. Now what?"

"You go back in and leave me alone. I need to think. That's all, just think about what's next. I need to be by myself to do that, though, okay?"

_She's lying like a motherfucker._ And why would she do that? Obvious enough: So he'd go away and she could finish what she'd come up here to do. "I'll just stay here while you think. When you're done, we'll go in together."

"I'm done."

It was something in her voice, something that sounded hideously like relief to him. He lunged for her and got her under her arms and by her hair as she pushed herself off the ledge. She shrieked at him, thrashing no matter how much it had to hurt, as he hauled her back over to safety. He finally dropped to the gravel rooftop and wrapped arms and legs around her, pinning her against him until she stopped fighting him. She stopped the way she'd started, as if a switch inside her had flipped.

It stayed flipped. He got her into his room and settled in one of the ridiculous excuses for a chair. She just looked at him as if she wasn't quite certain why any of it was happening.

His first thought of course was to call William. He was wondering how she slipped from his sight in this state of mind, and had his phone in hand, when it struck him: She wouldn't have.

"_Fuck_. Hollyann..."

"Roman's going to be pissed if he finds me here. Let me go." Her voice was hollow, toneless.

"Roman's not going to care."

"Let me go."

"Why do you keep saying that? I'm not keeping you here."

"Oh." She got up and was halfway to the door before he decided that yes, he _was_ keeping her here after all. She just laughed that weird, jagged laugh again and went back to the chair. "Are you going to keep me here forever?"

"Until you stop thinking about jumping off shit, yeah."

"So first you have to learn to read minds. We're going to be here for a while."

He would have thought it was a joke if not for that same emptiness in her voice. "Tell me what I can do for you. Without telling me to let you go back up there."

"In that case, nothing. Haven't you done enough?"

She was lashing out at anything that moved, that much was clear. And he was the only thing moving just now. Taking it personally would be like taking being rained on personally. "Then do something for _me_. Tell me what happened."

"I got dumped. I thought you figured that out already." The flare of anger in her voice was the first emotion of any kind he'd heard from her, so he welcomed it.

"Just dumped? No explanation?" _William, what the hell?_

"Explanations, excuses, whatever."

What she said in the next few minutes surprised him not at all. It all came down to one thing: Regal couldn't make peace with the difference in their ages. Just that, but that was like saying _just a mountain_.

"What will you do now?"

"I don't know. You screwed up my only plan for tonight."

"Good. You need a better one."

"Go back to Japan, maybe. They'll probably still have me. I should never have come back here."

"I can see how you'd think that now. Would you think about waiting on that decision? A week?"

"Why?"

_Because I love you no matter what William thinks about it, even if he doesn't any more, and I don't want you to go._ "Because it's huge and you can't take it back easily. What about getting back in the ring here? They'd like to have you back, wouldn't they?"

"Maybe. But in the immediate, I need a room." She smiled, but it wasn't very steady. "I don't have one any more."

"Stay here."

"No more jumpy dumbass stuff, I promise. It wouldn't help anyway. I'm pretty sure Hell is reliving the past couple of months over and over. Besides, you have one bed. And I am _not_ playing that."

And in spite of all that, he was still reluctant to see her go. He lay awake until nearly dawn, trying to ignore that what he was doing was waiting to hear sirens.

There were no sirens, but when he went to her room in the morning, she was gone. Checked out, they said at the desk. Beyond that, there was no trail at all.

Dean thought hard about it for two days, then went to Emma, not that he really thought it would do any good. He was out of other ideas.

"So she's gone, no one seems to know where. I thought you could call her, or text, just to find out if she's okay."

Emma rolled her eyes at him. "Or I could maybe give you her number, like you really want? Not happening."

"Yeah, yeah...freak, perv, sleaze, I know. Just call her, all right? She was in a really fucked up way when she left."

Emma looked at him for a long time. "Give me your phone."

He handed it over. She put Hollyann's number in, her face vividly saying _I don't know WHY the hell I'm doing this_.

"I don't think she's going to be very happy with me about this, but...here."

That left him with a decision: What to say, and how to say it. He finally decided on a text message. She'd have time to decide what she wanted to do about that.

_Where are you? Or if you don't want to tell me that, how are you?_

It was three days before he got an answer. _I'm fine. How the hell did you get my number?_

_Took you long enough to decide that. And Emma gave it to me. She was THAT worried._

_I have to drive 30 miles to get cell service. I'm sitting in a Hardee's making calls. I take me to the nicest places._

_Did you go off and climb a mountain or something?_

_Or something. I decided to come home for a while. Home is the ass-end of nowhere. And trust me, no mountains._

_And if you kind of came back to civilization, does that mean you've made a decision?_

_They gave me an in-ring contract again, but I have to go to developmental for a while. Which means apartment-hunting by phone from 1400 miles away._

_You can stay at my place._

_Don't even. I've got a friend I can house-sit for for a couple of months. I'll be fine._

Given what she was going to find waiting for her in developmental, he doubted that. But at least she was staying.

* * *

Wyatt was gone nearly a month, and wasn't doing anything in the ring when he did get back. If he'd ever explained to anyone what happened to him, they never heard anything about it. The strangest thing to Seth was the change in Miranda. She went calm, started smiling again the way she used to. He knew some of it was that she was starting to recover. But that wasn't all, he was sure of it.

So, he was startled to find out, was Roman.

"I've tried to stay out of all the weird stuff, but there's no other answer, man: She feels safe. Like Wyatt isn't a thing in her life any more. How she'd know that, I don't know. But she _does_. Even if she doesn't know she knows it."

It sounded crazy, but the second he said it, Seth knew he was right. And Miranda's mother might have been, too. Whatever radar system she had for Wyatt, it had gone blank-screen.

Good thing, too, because they were developing another problem: Dean was getting kind of stalkerish about Hollyann.

To a point, he'd never stopped being. He was the one who told them Regal had shown her the door. Seth was shocked; it was about the last thing he'd thought would happen. Roman was pretty obviously unhappy about it and waiting for Dean's thing about Regal to become a problem again. But it wasn't Regal he started following around and watching; it was the girl.

Roman hadn't had much to say about it, at least that Seth heard. Only once, in fact.

"Leave her alone, Dean. There's nothing there for you."

Dean shook his head urgently. "She understands now."

"It isn't the same thing."

"No. But she still understands."

That was all they could get out of him about what he wanted with her. Seth knew Roman was keeping a closer watch on Dean, too. He was wondering if maybe that watchfulness wasn't extending to the girl, too. It wasn't hard to imagine Roman wanting a little of that himself. But that really wasn't his business; better to leave it alone, all of it.


	19. Worlds Lie in Between

Hollyann knew what spending time in developmental would mean; William was doing commentary there. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since he'd sent her packing.

She'd managed to avoid him for three weeks, but she knew that wouldn't last forever, though neither of them was trying to change it. It was simply too small a world for them to not collide in eventually.

It was small, but she was busy in it. It felt better to get back in the ring than she'd expected it to. She had opponents good enough to test her while she shook off the ring rust, and she knew that after the first couple, the matches were good. When she finally braced herself to watch them, she was stunned to find that the commentary was, too. They hadn't been public knowledge, and he seemed happy to keep it that way. He was even complementary once she started hitting her stride. She knew she should have realized it; he was a professional first of all.

That was the reputation she was getting, too, she knew: Professional, nice but distant, intensely private. It wasn't that she didn't want to make friends; she just seemed to have forgotten how.

Her friend's house was on the beach, too big for just her, and gorgeous. She'd diligently spent her off-time apartment hunting for the first two weeks, but she found herself spending more and more time just hanging out on the deck or on the beach. It was amazingly quiet; the strand was privately owned, divided among the five houses on it. Two of them were empty and had the look of summer places. She'd gotten the key when she'd arrived from the man in the house next door, who had the look of an aging hippie surfer and had handed over the key with a cheerful smile and a nod; he'd obviously been told to expect her. The only other occupied house was three down; she'd nodded and waved at the people there, but nothing else so far. She was settling in; she knew she shouldn't, but it was happening anyway.

She was in a grumpy mood, having been dealt her first loss in six matches courtesy of Paige. She knew people were looking at her, too, just as she'd feared all along. Looking, and thinking about what they knew. But she could take it; that was new information for her. She could deal. What they thought didn't matter, not really. And when it started mattering, she was finding, there was the ocean. She spent a lot of time out there on the beach, just watching the water fling things onto the sand then sweep them away. Things cleaned themselves, given time and patience.

She was torn between restlessness and just plain rest. She loved the peacefulness of the place, though it nagged at her that her time there was limited. But she was itching to get out of developmental, and not just to get away from the constant reminder of her life imploding that William was. She was _ready_ for a call-up, and she knew it.

It was weird for her to face a regular audience at NXT. She'd had some of that in Japan, where there were always a dozen or so familiar faces in the front rows at most cards, but here the crowd ran about 70% regulars. The urge to really show them something was strong. She found it in something she'd largely quit using: submission holds. She knew a lot of them; she was kind of a collector, and it was considered a lot less weird for women to use them in Japan, so she'd learned every one someone would teach her. She knew leg strength was her best asset, so after running through a few of her favorite submissions in training sessions, she busted out a torture crab in her return match against Paige. It won the match for her, to the obvious approval of the crowd.

The next week she found it, in her favorite submission of all, the lotus lock. She felt a little bad locking it on Bayley; she always did when it was someone she liked. But winning made it feel a whole lot better. So did the reaction; they'd liked the torture crab, but this they loved. She'd been looking for a hook, and she was pretty sure she'd just found it. And she knew an easy dozen ways to transition into it, too.

"Nicely done."

Oh, she needed this right now. "Hello, William. Thank you."

"I think you can expect your call-up soon."

"Good." She turned so she could get past him. "I'm late. I have to go."

He grabbed her arm. "Late for what, exactly? You're gaining quite a reputation as a hermit."

"From people whose business it isn't. Let go of me."

He did. "Is this how it's going to be, then?"

"Did you expect it to be some other way?"

"I never promised anything, Hollyann."

"No, you talked around that pretty well. It's on me that I assumed things. Lesson learned." There was another exit, if that was how he wanted to be; she turned and headed for it. She could feel him watching her go. Fine; let him have a taste of how it felt.

All she wanted now was to get home. She'd half-accepted an invitation from some of the others to go out for drinks. Not tonight. As little as she'd ever liked clubs, she didn't like them at all these days, anyway. Bad memories everywhere she looked. She wanted home, beach, and maybe a beer or two. That was it.

She took a sixer out to the beach. And she was fine, just fine, right up until then. She opened a bottle, sank it in the sand next to her, and then the first sob ripped loose. _Why not? No one's here to see._

She did feel better, a little, when it had run its course. She was really starting to regret not going back to Japan. There just didn't seem to be any way to win here. If she stayed down, there was William forever to cross paths with. If they called her up, there were all kinds of people she didn't feel up to dealing with. The weirdest thing was how lonely it all was.

Her call-up came between NXT shows. She was a little sad to not be able to say her goodbyes to the fans there, but there was no saying she wouldn't be right back down; calls to the main roster could be precarious, especially for women. She intended to make an impression either way.

Sheamus found her first thing when she arrived. "I just heard. Congratulations."

She was happier to see him than she would have thought. "I guess they needed another Partial Diva."

"You'll just have to show them you're not part anything. Emma's looking for you, as well. I think she's wanting her roommate back."

That was a surprise, the first welcome one in a long time.

It wasn't going to be easy making an impression; they slotted women's matches into the bathroom-break slot up here, which was in its way actually a demotion from NXT. It morphed her goal into making people sorry they missed her match. It wasn't going to be an easy goal to reach; they put her up against Aksana, which wasn't going to do much for match quality, and there was a definite aura of _Make this quick so we can get back to the real show_ about her pre-match meeting with the road agent.

Well, if he insisted. Aksana was strong, but Hollyann had height and reach on her, and she was far from weak herself - and she had it all over Aksana where skills were concerned. It was easy to overbalance her and throw her from their first lockup. Aksana came up looking pretty pissed off about it, too.

_Good. She'll start making mistakes._ She was very sure she'd only need one.

It came in less than two minutes. It wasn't a bad idea on the face of it; Aksana charged her, meaning to use brute force to take her down. Hollyann sidestepped and swept her legs, and Aksana went down just as she'd hoped for, sitting down hard. Hollyann dropped down behind her. Aksana was strong enough to put up a fight against the lotus lock, but once she had it locked in, Aksana's strength worked against her; more muscular arms and shoulders only let Hollyann cinch in tighter. Skinny arms were actually harder to work.

There was some scattered applause - very scattered. It was a start, at least. She waved toward the direction it came from and got herself out of the ring.

She was looking for Sheamus and Emma backstage. She found Dean Ambrose instead.

"You looked good out there."

There was more than one way to take that from him, wasn't there? She decided to take the high road whether he was or not. "Thanks. Just how bad was the commentary?"

He smiled. It was about half leer, but that was pretty much standard for him. "Cole tried for you, give him that. But Lawler drowned him out talking about how much he'd enjoy it if you put that hold on him the other way around."

"Oh, wonderful."

"It's attention. And he might not enjoy it as much as he thinks, huh?"

"Probably not."

Those weird, oddly pretty eyes were locked on her. "How are you? You know."

"All right. Some days are better than others."

"We have something in common now, don't we?"

She supposed they did. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by Emma. She took one look - and he _was_ a little bit too close to her, wasn't he? - and turned and started waving urgently around a corner.

"You should probably do a fade." She wasn't sure why she even cared, but she did.

"Oh yeah? And who's going to come stomping to your rescue now?"

She had a good idea who, and she was right. "You lost, fella?"

_Shit._ "It's okay. Dean..."

"Well, _this_ is a surprise. I'll see you later, darlin'." She was relieved for more than one reason when he walked away.

"Whatever you're thinking about it, sweetheart, he isn't your friend."

"I know." She did, too. She couldn't help wondering what Ambrose thought he was, though.


	20. Saying Every Word Out Loud

Shoes off, changed into a sundress, Hollyann felt like she was where she needed to be. She thought about making a pitcher of lemonade just to complete the whole picture, but she just felt too damn lazy to get into all that. She grabbed a pair of beach sandals and went out to bask instead.

For a while, she just stood there holding the sandals dangling from one hand and watching the waves tumble in. The sight hadn't gotten old, and she was starting to believe it never would. She tilted her head back and enjoyed the sun on her face and the wind rippling the skirt of her dress around her legs.

"At home here, aren't you?"

She wasn't sure what was weirder: That he kept finding her, or that she was less and less surprised every time. "You followed me."

"Yeah. Nice place. Is the owner making _him_self at home, too?"

"That's none of your business, Dean. And how do you know who owns this place?" Her friend had been gone two weeks before she'd moved in. Dean couldn't possibly have seen him.

"So that's a no. You should get him some glasses. You get _me_ hard just standing here like this."

She had to force herself to focus on the real problem here. "How long have you been watching me, Dean?"

"Long enough to know he's not who you should be with. He doesn't know what you want. What you need."

"And I suppose you know who does?" She'd been waiting for this, she realized. He'd pushed her and William together once - done it at gunpoint - so his trying to put them back together shouldn't be so surprising.

"_Me_. I know what you need. I know a lot about you, don't I? How you'd look without that dress on. How you sound when you're begging for more. How you move when you're getting it just how you want. I know. I can make you do all that."

"Dean..."

"I know things you don't even know, darlin'. What you really want and won't admit to yourself."

"You don't know anything of the kind. I think you'd better leave now."

"You _think_? You don't know if you want me to leave? You better decide, darlin'. You know what I'm going to do if I stay. What you're going to do for me." He'd been gradually closing the distance between them. He was close enough now to do whatever he wanted. "Tell me you want it. I want to hear you say it."

"No, Dean. This is crazy."

"Right up my alley, darlin'. I'll make you come better than you ever have. You know I will. I'm gonna do things to you you've never let any man do. Not even him. We going inside, or do I get to fuck you right here where all the neighbors can see? I'd like that, let them see how much you want it. I don't think you would, though, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't. I also wouldn't want Roman pissed off at me, and this seems like a hell of a way to get me there."

"Aw, he's not gonna be mad at you. Not if you give him a little something sweet, too. He's inside. Waiting for us."

He smiled at the look on her face, then reached up and traced a fingertip down her cheek. "He's got enough to give you what you've been missing. You're gonna come so hard for him. And you'll scream and beg for us all night. You know you need it; you've been without for so long, haven't you?"

His hands were on her now, teasing, kneading, finding everywhere she ached and wanted. "Come inside, darlin'. Come get what you need."

_Or maybe just what I deserve. Why don't sane men like me?_ "All right. Let's go."

"You don't have to sound like you're going to your own execution."

"Am I?"

He smiled. "Just the little death, darlin'. Over and over again. Can I kiss you?"

It seemed like a strange question given what she'd just finished agreeing to. But somehow a kiss was different, wasn't it? Fucking was just that, no more, and he'd made it clear enough that was what they were going to do. But a kiss was intimate, personal.

She nodded. _In for a penny..._

She thought he tried to kiss her gently. He didn't succeed, exactly, but she felt better that he tried.

"We have an audience." He caught her chin when she tried to turn to look. "You'll see lots of him in a few minutes, darlin'. He's been wanting you, too, you know. He says he liked how you touched him. Did I miss out on that?"

He did, but she didn't think he really wanted to be reminded of why.

Every nerve in her body was jittering when he led her inside. A_m I going to do this? Am I really?_ The idea that she might be walking into her own damnation wouldn't stop needling her; she wasn't even sure what it meant, but it wouldn't go away.

It shut the hell up when Roman smiled at her, though. "Decided not to run screaming up the beach? Good. Come on over here a minute."

She felt hypnotized, like none of it was her decision to make any more. Up close, he was just overwhelming. He didn't ask permission to kiss her, but he made up for it by succeeding at the gentleness Dean hadn't.

"This isn't all we want from you, babygirl. We can talk about that in the morning." He smiled, a quirk of his mouth that sent a little jolt through her. "Or in the afternoon. You'll be sleeping in if we take care of you right."

Dean led them to her bedroom. They were halfway down the hall when that really hit her and she came to a heels-dug stop. "You've been in the house before."

"Oops." His smile said he wasn't too terribly distressed at being found out.

It was oddly comforting to find that she wasn't the only one standing in the bedroom not sure what to do next; they were all doing it. Just when she was sure they were all going to laugh and go back in the living room and watch movies all night, Roman pulled her up against him and tilted her head back to kiss her again. He really was very good at it; she was concentrating on that enough that she only jumped a little when Dean moved up behind her, hands working on getting her clothes gone, and moving against her in a way that let her feel just how uninterested he was in movie night.

So this was it; do it or don't. She wondered if they'd really let her call it off now as she reached back and ran her hand up Dean's thigh. He muttered something obscene and grabbed roughly at her breasts.

"Be nice. She isn't going to run away. Are you, babygirl?"

She shook her head. What she mostly wanted was to be kissed some more. Roman obliged, breaking it off with a soft laugh as Dean finally got all of the dozens of tiny buttons on her dress undone and peeled it away. Thanks to thin spaghetti straps and the assumption that she'd be alone, she hadn't put on a bra. Dean's hands found her breasts again, kneading, still roughly, but in the right way. Her nipples hardened against his palms almost instantly, and she blushed.

"That's all right. You go ahead and like it, don't be shy." Roman shrugged off his shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. "Get rid of the rest and bring her to me, Dean."

He did, stripping off her panties and pushing her until she was sitting astride Roman's legs, facing him. That got her more kisses, but also her first evidence that Dean wasn't lying about what he had for her. She hissed, wide-eyed, and jumped back as much as Roman's hands on her hips allowed.

"Shh. You're going to take it all for me, aren't you, babygirl?"

Dean grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back far enough to lock gazes with her. "If I can, you can. And you won't mind if it hurts for a little while, will you?" She shivered as he bent and locked his mouth on her throat, chewing and sucking roughly. It was going to leave a mark, there was no avoiding that.

Roman ran a finger along her cleft, laughing softly at the moan it tore from her. "So wet. She's ready."

Dean lifted her away from him, pinning her back to him and sliding two fingers into her as Roman stripped off his pants and laid back on the bed, legs still hanging over the side. His cock looked absolutely huge in that position, and she struggled when Dean, his fingers still deep in her, pushed her back toward the bed.

"Save that for me," Dean whispered in her ear. "I like a little fight before a fuck. For him, you just shut up and take it like a good girl." He reached down and lifted her by her legs, tucking them under her. She felt both their hands on her, positioning her so the head of Roman's cock was starting to pry its way in. Dean laughed as he simply let go of her.

Roman caught her about halfway down, bringing her descent back under control, but every nerve in her was still sending panic signals: _God, he's huge!_

It demanded everything of her, but she took him. When she was sitting flat against his hips, he let his head fall back, eyes closed, smiling. "Sweet girl, you feel so good." He took a different grip on her hips and started moving her on him. She felt Dean's hands slide under her, helping her ride. She let them do what they wanted, and the pain and panic faded into utter pleasure.

Dean's hands left her as Roman pulled her down flat on top of him, using his legs to open hers as wide they could stretch. She'd never been so happy to be flexible as she sank even further onto him. He let her move how she wanted now, and she rose and fell on his cock, locked so tightly in her that she could feel the shape of the head as it opened the way anew each time. She came hard enough to make her ears pop as she drenched them both with wetness.

"Oh, fuck." Dean sounded almost as if he were in pain. "Did you feel it, man?"

Roman nodded, still lost in sensation. "She's ready. Go."

She was confused right up until she felt the head of Dean's cock nudge slickly against her ass. "Oh my God, _no_!" She tried to struggle, but that hurt, and Roman's fingers clenched on her hips. Dean spared her no gentleness, burying himself in her in two brutal thrusts, somehow driving her still further onto Roman's cock at the same time. She mashed her face into Roman's chest and screamed.

"Easy, man, go easy. I don't think she's had it like this before."

Dean eased up a little. Very little. His thrusts made her ride Roman's cock again. It hurt, and she loved the pain, all of it. Coming turned it into agony as she clenched around them both, and that made her come harder still. She was only aware of both of them finishing as more sensation.


	21. Every Single Thought Restored

She expected them to be gone when she woke up. They weren't. What they'd done to her - how much she'd liked what they'd done - came flooding back. She tried to hide her burning face in a pillow, but she couldn't move enough to do it.

"Uh uh. Don't you go off and hide behind shame. It was good, wasn't it?" Roman's smile made his opinion on the subject very clear.

"Yes."

"Then enjoy it. Nobody here's going to lean on you about that. Speaking of, when do you hit the road again?"

"The day after tomorrow."

"You'd better decide what you're going to do about this, don't you think?"

"Do?"

"_Do_. I'm going to want more of this. And Dean sure as hell is. How long do you think you can live two lives and try to pretend they don't have anything to do with each other? And I told you this isn't all we want, remember?"

"I'm lucky I remember my middle name right now."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"A secret I will take to my grave."

"That must be hard to fit on forms. We've all been watching you, you know."

"Oh, for..."

He laughed softly. "Not like Dean's been. In the ring. We've been impressed. Come run with us."

She couldn't have been more surprised. "You're all on board with this?"

"All of us. Seth, too, if that's what you're wondering. He's not here because he's got something good going, but he's on the same page with us."

"What exactly can I do for you guys? Or you for me, while we're at it?"

"Out front, not a lot. We get in your matches, we get suspended on the spot. And you don't need to get in ours, either."

"I could. They'd get suspended for hitting me back, too."

He laughed softly and ran a finger down from her hairline to the tip of her nose. "And you would, too, wouldn't you? When it gets down to it, that's what we want. That fire. We're looking to get more titles back in camp, and there's one we have no chance of getting. You do. There's not one of us who doesn't think it's just a matter of time. Then you stand up with us."

She felt Dean shift, then pull her back against him. "Got a little wake-up call for me, darlin'?"

"You could let the poor girl have breakfast first."

Dean grinned at him as he pulled Hollyann's hips back, giving him a better angle. "Feed her, then."

There was that, wasn't there? Roman sat up and pulled Hollyann's upper body into his lap. When her lips parted to cry out as Dean drove into her, Roman pulled her down to his cock. She went to work on it eagerly.

"That's it, show him how good you are at it. I already saw, didn't I?" Dean pulled back and slammed into her; she wailed, more outraged than hurt thanks to the angle easing the force, and Dean grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and forced her down further on Roman's cock.

Roman moaned at the sudden heat and wetness so far down his shaft, but he still gave Dean a whack on top of the head. "Watch that shit. If she bites me, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Get her around, then. I can't get in like I want this way. It's pissing me off."

They muscled her around so she was on elbows and knees. The angle was better for a lot of things, and she let Roman's cock slide down her throat.

"We oughta just keep her like this. You'd like that, wouldn't you, darlin'? Our little fucktoy on 24-hour call?" He drove back into her, all the way in this time, and she moaned.

"Damn, sweet girl, that feels good." Roman's hips were rising to the heat and wetness of her mouth, his hand tangled in her hair. She went at him more urgently; she was loving doing this for him.

Dean noticed, and laughed. "Good. You make her happy and I don't have to worry about it." He proceeded to do exactly that, pounding into her three more times, then burying himself to the hilt and coming before falling away to watch her finish off Roman.

She didn't see the annoyed look Roman gave him; all she heard was Dean laughing. "Get her off if you're into it. She's close."

Long, strong, clever fingers found her clit and had her trembling and moaning in seconds. The moans must have felt good to Roman; he growled and came in her mouth as his fingers brought her off. She swallowed greedily; she wanted desperately to taste him.

"Damn, I guess she really _was_ hungry. Drink it, girl. Drink it all." Dean was stroking her hair as he talked to her. It freaked her out worse than anything rough he'd done; she was waiting for him to snap and backhand her. She didn't stop waiting for it until he got up and went looking for the shower.

They left that afternoon, which gave her a day and change to consider just what the hell she'd gotten herself into, and what she was going to do about it. She decided that at least for now, she was going to do exactly what Roman had warned her wouldn't work: try to live her life in distinct halves.


	22. All at Once It Happens

Hollyann managed to find an apartment after three weeks of looking. It was definitely a step down - it had to be, didn't it? The rest of her life was a bit more colorful, not the least because she was back rooming with Emma on the road.

Dean and Roman seemed willing to let her carve her life up as she saw fit, as long as their part of it got her full attention when its turn came around. That was getting increasingly harder to do, because Emma was getting very curious about where her roomie was off to so much, sometimes all night.

There was that, too, wasn't there? Whatever else they'd said they wanted of her, what they wanted was a lot of kinky sex. Not that she minded that, but if all the other talk had just been bait, she'd have sooner done without it.

And it wasn't always kinky, not when Dean wasn't around. That happened often enough to keep her off balance. She'd get a text from Roman, find him waiting alone, and the night would go off on a tangent.

Sometimes it wasn't even sex. When it was, he was invariably gentle with her, clearly as interested in her enjoying it as in his doing so. And she did, a lot. But sometimes she'd get a text or a call, and go to him to find herself sitting up talking all night, or watching absolutely awful movies. _Come watch 'Sharknado'_ had been the beginning of a memorable evening, she could say that for it.

It would have been easy to start thinking of him as a lover - a boyfriend, even - but those were dangerous thoughts, and she kept them pushed away. Better to just enjoy it for what it was.

She did manage to keep it all in its little compartments, right up until the night she stood in horror and watched The Shield get laid out. The worst part was that she couldn't do a thing to stop it. Watching Roman actually try to crawl to the ring to help his outnumbered partners tore her heart out, but what could she do other than be a distraction, or end up in trouble herself?

Emma couldn't figure out what in hell was wrong with her back in their room that night. Hollyann paced like a lion in a tiny cage, obviously distressed and angry. She'd won her match, so it wasn't that. "If you'd tell me, maybe I could help."

"No. Thanks, but no one can."

"Wherever it is you go, you need to, don't you?"

Hollyann nodded. She'd never gone to them uninvited, though. She figured they wanted time for just them, too, and it was another way to keep everything in its proper place.

"I wish you'd tell me...But if you need to this bad, just go."

Five minutes later she knocked, sure that they'd tell her to go away; they hadn't called, so they must not want her around right now. But she had to try.

Roman opened the door and smiled at her worried expression. "I was about to call you. Seth's on his way, too."

Dean gave her a look that said he might be considering just how much he could do to her before Seth arrived. The look turned to something like curiosity when he got a good look at her. "We're all right, darlin'. Have you been worrying?"

"All I could do was watch. I've never felt so useless in my whole life."

He tugged her down to sit beside him, which freaked her out a little. All right, a lot. "So you're saying you'd feel better if I used you? We don't have a lot of time, but..."

Roman shot him a look as he let Seth in, trailed by his girlfriend. Hollyann had met her a couple of times, but she got the impression the other woman was being kept busy pretty much the same way she was most of the time.

"What's everybody thinking?"

"We should give them a chance to explain why they're letting Kane do this shit right in their faces and still act like they're behind us. If only to hear their bullshit explanation."

Hollyann smiled. She wondered just how much Seth liked being the voice of reason. He got stuck with it an awful lot.

"And if they won't? Or if their bullshit explanation is a bullshit explanation?" Dean. Not the voice of reason.

"Then we go to war." Neither was Roman, for that matter. He looked around. "Anyone not agree?"

Hollyann's eyes widened when they all looked at her. "All I can do is watch. Why do I even have a vote?"

"Tiebreaker," Dean said happily.

"Three people _can't_ tie."

"Tell Dean that," Seth said, trying and not doing well at looking solemn. "He keeps voting _fried halibut_ on stuff."

Roman sat down on the other side of her and put his arm around her; she saw the other girl give Seth a _Wait, WHAT?_ look that made her want to giggle. "I told you it would take time, babygirl. So now the waiting gets hard. Stay tough. And make some noise about a title shot. They've handed them out for less than you've done already. You in?"

She nodded.

There was a little more talk, but it mostly reiterated the point already made: This was war.

Dean waited about four seconds after Seth and his girlfriend left. "Now, about this useless thing..." He pushed her back onto the bed. "I've got all kinds of uses for you."

It wasn't often she found herself dealing with Dean alone, but Roman seemed content to sit back and watch. She was glad he was at least there; she still wasn't convinced Dean wouldn't snap and really hurt her eventually. She wasn't 100% convinced Roman would stop him, either, but it was close enough that she felt safer with him there.

She'd quickly learned it was easier to let Dean do what he wanted. Fighting didn't help; he liked that. He also liked fucking her as hard as he could; he had her clothes off and his pushed aside enough for it in about a minute and a half. Foreplay wasn't his thing. As much as it troubled her, that turned her on; she was wet enough to let him go at her easily. She knew it was better to keep quiet, but she couldn't. When she moaned and reached up to touch him, he laughed and started to turn her over.

Roman grabbed him by the back of his shirt and a handful of hair and pulled him back - not off her entirely, but enough to make him stop.

"Don't you ever take a day off? You're missing out on the good stuff. Get up."

Dean looked about twenty kinds of pissed, but he did as he was told.

"Strip off. Skin on skin feels _good_, man." As he did, Roman was shedding his own clothes, then digging in a bag beside the bed. He came up with lube, and a big smile on his face. "On your knees. If you can't do it yourself, I'm gonna help you."

Dean knelt between Hollyann's legs, calmly waiting, watching her expression with curious eyes. He read from her face what was coming when Roman knelt behind him, and he closed his eyes, the look on his face blissful even before the bigger man pushed into him. Hollyann watched, lip caught between her teeth. They both had ecstatic expressions on their faces as Roman sank himself to the hilt. God, they were beautiful like this.

Roman pushed Dean down so he was over Hollyann, the head of his cock just parting her. He smiled at both of them trembling under him. "Feel it, man. Hot, wet silk. _Feel_." He pushed Dean down onto and into her, forcing him to take her slowly. "You like that?"

Nether of them had any idea which one he was talking to. They both answered in a breathless, murmured _Yes_.

"Good." Roman pulled partway out of Dean, then pulled him back, sinking himself deep again and drawing Dean's cock most of the way out of Hollyann. He pushed him back down again, still slowly, letting them both feel every bit of it. He found a rhythm that pleased all of them and kept going.

"Look at her, Dean - look." She was lost in it, eyes closed, head back, mouthing _yes, oh fuck, yes_ over and over. She couldn't seem to get breath enough behind it to say it out loud. "You like making her like this?"

"Yeah."

"Touch him, sweet girl. You want to, don't you?"

She didn't usually do that; he flinched away most of the time, or reacted by getting rougher with her. But he couldn't do either now. She ran her hands over Dean's shoulders and across his chest; he tensed and shivered, making Roman groan softly, but he stayed still and let her do as she pleased. She wondered if she'd pay for this later, but it was worth it now.

Roman went back to making Dean ride Hollyann slow and easy, watching her face carefully. When he was sure she was on the edge, he paused. "Next one, man. Next time your cock fills her up, she's gonna come like hell. You're gonna like it damn near as much as she does." He pushed Dean into her again, and her hips lifted off the bed in spite of both their weight pinning her. The sounds she was making seemed to be all vowels as she pounded the mattress with her fists. "Feel her around you, Dean. It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah...yeah, oh fuck."

He held Dean still until she glided down from it. "Good. Now we're gonna make her do it again."

It didn't take long, which Roman was grateful for. Everything he was feeling and seeing was starting to work on him in a major way. He moved more aggressively in Dean, and moved him the same way, still not rough, but getting them both toward the finish line. She somehow managed to cling to them both as they came, whispering sweetly soothing nonsense in Dean's ear all the while.

Dean didn't stay with them long after; Roman didn't think he would. What had just happened was probably messing with him as much as whips and chains would mess with other people. He dressed quickly and left them alone, without a word. Roman bundled Hollyann up against him; he knew she needed warmth and contact as much as Dean didn't.

"It's probably better if you don't get alone with him for a while, sweet girl. Make sure I'm around."

She nodded against his chest. He could only hope she really understood.


	23. I Expect Love from You

"Come keep me some company, babygirl."

Roman's voice could still travel up her spine like electricity. She didn't even question any more that her first impulse - her first _need_ - was to do as he said. "On my way."

"On your way where?" Emma's smile was teasing, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Come on, girl, it's time to give away the secret. Who is he?"

"What he?"

"All right, she, then? I won't freak out if it is, you know."

Hollyann smiled. "No, not a she. Or a he." Technically, she supposed, that wasn't a lie; it was a them. Or it usually was. Not tonight, maybe. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Emma followed her right up until she got in the elevator. She couldn't very well jump in there with her. There weren't even numbers on the outside to tell her what floor it stopped on.

"Think we can catch the midnight movie without blowing your cover too bad?"

Hollyann smiled at Roman. "I think so. What's playing?"

"Does it really matter?"

It didn't, actually; the point of going was to go, not to see what was guaranteed to be an absolutely terrible movie.

It was. It consisted of an invasion by one giant spider. The third time it showed up on screen, Roman doubled over, a hand clapped over his mouth to keep from roaring laughter. It took him several minutes to get under control enough to even begin telling her what was so funny.

"Wait until it comes back."

When it did, he pointed, starting to laugh again. "Look, I think it's a Volkswagen."

He was right. "Are its eyes...the taillights?"

"Shit, they're driving it in reverse."

That was enough to give them both a huge case of kids-at-camp giggles. And then she _really_ looked. "I'll bet they blew two-thirds of the effects budget on all those bearskin rugs."

He looked, blinked, looked again, and then they were holding each other up and covering each other's mouths while they howled laughter. Kissing worked better.

They didn't see half a dozen phone cameras go off around them.

They wandered the streets after the movie, enjoying the warm night and neither ready to go back to being boxed up in the hotel. He took her hand crossing the first street, then kept it. She didn't say anything, but she didn't try to reclaim it, either.

They ended up at a diner with three other people and one very bored-looking waitress. They took a booth all the way at the back. He waited for her to sit down first, then slid in beside her. As soon as the waitress had left them menus and walked away, he leaned in and gave her a kiss.

"You ready to talk about this?"

"This?"

He kissed her again, smiling against her lips. "Our first date. This."

"I don't know if I am or not. If I think about it too hard, Dean's there grinning at me."

He didn't answer that for a while. The waitress came back and took their order, and brought their drinks, before he finally did. It wasn't anything she would have imagined.

"If I kept the old ways, I'd say Dean has an aitu - a ghost. I don't keep them, but he still has one, doesn't he? I can keep it quiet. And I'm going to pay for that one day. Soon, I think. He's...slipping again. It's going to be bad this time."

"Have I made that worse? Is he...jealous, I guess?"

"I don't think he really gets jealousy. And you made it better, not worse. I don't think he would have held out this long. It's not the first time he's held back his bad impulses for you, is it?"

"For me? You must be kidding."

"Nope. Have you considered that somewhere along the way, he decided to find you a man?"

"Still kidding."

"Still not. He asked me to go with him the night we showed up at your place. All he had to do was not ask if he wanted to get at you alone. Was that the first time he did?"

"Yes."

"Was it the first time he _could_ have?"

It wasn't. He'd had a gun. How hard would it have been to catch her before she got back that day, to just take her to wherever he'd been staying?

"He's not gonna turn it down, babygirl, but that's not what he's after first."

"He was after the man I was with."

"And he was already with me. Try again."

She sat there chewing it over as the waitress put their food down. "Why? Why would he?"

"Because you were hurt. I think he's been trying to find someone who'll take care of you. Are you really surprised that he'd think his choices should be your choices, too?" He smiled. "He did a better job on the second try. If you're into that."

"Into being taken care of?"

"Into being my woman." He smiled at the look on her face. "What did you think this was all about? Getting laid? We're already doing that. I'll be disappointed if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I think I'm...into that."

She liked when he really smiled, all-out. He didn't do it nearly often enough.

* * *

Emma sat staring at her phone. It hadn't taken much time on Twitter to figure out what the news of the day was. Her eyes got wider and wider with every photo.

In one, Hollyann and Roman Reigns were kissing, and looking like they'd just discovered how fun it was - or like they might be trying to suck each other's faces off. The photo was captioned, "Who says you never see anything good at the midnight movie?"

There were several more like it. The one that made her stop dead was of the two of them in a booth somewhere, all but sitting on top of each other, gazes locked. That one was captioned, "Guess who's getting the spear tonight."

Hollyann got back a couple of hours later, looking thoroughly serene. _How did I not know she was getting it SOMEwhere? She might as well have WELL LAID tattooed across her forehead._

"Good morning. So much for a few hours, huh?"

"I didn't say what 'a few' means, did I?"

"A few hours, a few inches. You look like you had both."

"Oh, stop."

"You've got good taste, I'll give you that."

That stopped her in her tracks. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're busted." She handed Hollyann her phone.

"Oh, God damn it." She sounded equally pissed off and resigned.

"What? Girl, maybe you didn't notice, but _that_ is nothing to be ashamed of."

"It's not that." She sat down, trying to compose her thoughts. What it really was, she still couldn't tell Emma. "I just...like my private life private. Are you mad at me?"

"No, I guess not. But you _so_ owe me some dirt."

She thought she probably did - what were roommates for after all? - but she had something else to do first. Emma just sat there and grinned while she did it.

_Good morning. We're busted._

_Yeah, I saw. Seth about killed himself getting over here to show me. You okay with this, babygirl?_

_I think so. It's going to take some getting used to. Are you?_

_Seriously? I look damn good wearing you. Don't worry about the rest of it, all right? I'll talk to Dean today._

_Sure you want to do it alone?_

_It's better probably. Relax. Have you thought about what I said? I think this is what he wanted all along._

She had other things to get her mind off that - and off all the people backstage who were smiling and whispering every time she turned around. Oddly enough, it seemed more friendly than anything; the smiles looked like real smiles.

One person who wasn't smiling much was Layla. Hollyann had decided to grab the wheel once she was sure that was what the guys really wanted of her. She'd gone into the office and started from the ground up: She was unhappy about not being included in the Divas Invitational, especially considering two women who were in it had literally done nothing for months and were in apparently for still being alive.

The office response, predictably she supposed, was to put her in a match against one of the breathing-doers. But not in the title match. She intended to take out her frustration on Layla, and never mind it wasn't really her fault. Apparently, Layla had gotten the memo on that at some point.

It was time to bust out something different, and she had something in mind. She'd been working on transitions for a while now; it wasn't nearly as easy to go into as the lotus lock. She was ready.

She wasn't sure she'd managed to advance the case for actually staying and watching her matches all that much; these were audiences well trained to go to the concession stand when women were doing anything other than slutting it up. But the people who did stay were starting to pay attention.

Tonight they seemed to want pay attention to starting a YOU GOT SPEARED chant. She did her best to ignore it; Layla was plenty competent in the ring, and smart enough to be watching for the lotus lock. But she'd learned from the women in Japan, too, most often the hard way. When she cinched in the Manami lock, she knew exactly how much it hurt. Layla tapped out in a hurry. It stopped the chant in its tracks, too.

She was thinking maybe now someone in the office would have to pay attention, when the lights went out.

We're here.

_Oh, shit._ She glanced at Layla, who was still writhing on the mat. But it probably wasn't her they were out here to terrorize, was it?

"Don't run away, little lamb. We're just here to say hello. We enjoy getting to know the friends of our friends." Wyatt was smiling unpleasantly; his two goons were positively leering. Well, one of them was. Who could say about Rowan? And she was so very trapped as they closed in around the ring.

Sierra...Hotel...India...

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._ They came out, all at a dead run, from three different sides of the arena. Roman had taken the entrance ramp and got to the ring first. Before Harper and Rowan could make their way around to intercept him, he simply speared Wyatt out of his jock without slowing or breaking stride. Wyatt went down in a crumpled heap; he looked broken in half. Roman glanced at the damage, then slid into the ring with her as Seth and Dean took down the other two. They watched, Roman's arm firmly around her. The crowd was going berserk.

Eventually the two goons slipped away long enough to scrape up their leader and make tracks. Seth and Dean watched them go, then got in the ring flanking Roman, who shifted Hollyann in front of him so they surrounded her on three sides. Dean was waving for a microphone. Hollyann considered prayer.

"Just so there's no more mistakes out there, Wyatt got speared. _She_ got nailed."

Roman gave him the most long-suffering look in history. Hollyann bit back a groan. _Thank you so much for next week's chant, Dean._


	24. Once That Passion Takes You

If the next week's chant was predictable, so was the next week's opponent.

Hollyann didn't know a lot about Rosa and had to fall back on match video, almost all of it from developmental. She was a little surprised when Seth sat by her and started watching along. She didn't see a lot of him outside group stuff.

"Unless she's gotten a metric fuckton better, I don't think you have to worry about anything but her accidentally dropping you on your head."

"Do you think she has?"

"Nope."

She turned to find a big smile on his face. It was hard not to answer it.

She didn't usually go along for the second gym session of the day; she had to carefully balance flexibility with strength. Most of the time, she went for a run when they went to lift in the evening. There was no such thing as too much cardio. This was her rest night, though; she intended to order a huge pile of Thai food, put on a pair of sweats and a tank top, and wait for the guys to get back hungry. _And maybe even wanting food, too_, she thought with a smile.

She was finishing the order when Dean walked in. "Hey. Did you forget something?"

"Nah, I'm taking the night off. Did you get me some of that red stuff?"

"Red curry beef, a double order." If he wanted to play this like it wasn't completely unlike him and unexpected, fine; so would she.

He flopped on the bed, giving her a speculative look. "How long until they get here with the food?"

"45 minutes, they said."

"Come here."

She hesitated, even after all this time. Roman hadn't left her alone with Dean, not since the night he'd decided to turn Dean's concept of good sex on its ear. She still wasn't sure how he might react to it without Roman here to restrain him.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Come now, my child, if we were planning to harm you, do you think we'd be lurking here beside the path in the very darkest part of the forest?"

"What's that from? It sounds like a movie."

"A poet I like." She sat down beside him. "Tell me what it is you want from me, Dean."

"It isn't about what I want. I know what you _need_."

She wasn't sure she really wanted to know what Dean thought she needed, but she couldn't stop herself. "Oh? And what's that?"

"A man strong enough to put you back in your place when you need it."

"What?"

"You don't like that, do you? But you still need it. That's okay. Roman will make you like it."

"You really are just stone crazy."

"Yeah, but I'm right, too. I thought William could do it for you, but he backed down when it got to that. I didn't think he would."

"It had nothing to do with...whatever the hell you're thinking."

"He said it was because you're so much younger, didn't he? He's got a hot little thing like you all over his cock, and all of a sudden you're too young? Now _that's_ some bullshit. He knew he couldn't do what you needed. He couldn't for me, either, but that was a whole other thing, wasn't it?"

"So, what? You think I need someone to smack me around?"

"Fuck, no. If you did, you'd be with Batista right now, wouldn't you? And it's not like Roman's ever gonna do that. You really don't get it, do you? I _know_ you. We're not so different, we just do our thing in different ways."

All she could do was stare. He laughed.

"Don't believe me? You get all twisted up inside. Mashed up. I know all about that; you just hide it better than I do. And then it's get right or lose your shit."

"Are you feeling...mashed up now? Is that why you came back? To spike me through the bed to get loosened up? No, Dean."

"Maybe you don't get to say no."

"If you want to be on a level with Batista, you go on and try. If you want to feel better, you'll have to trust me just a little. Can you?"

"You...want to?"

"Yes. But it has to be my way. I'll make you feel good, Dean. You know I can, don't you? Do you think about it? How it was?"

"A lot." He was barely whispering now. "I thought he'd make me stop, now that you two...you know."

"I think he's perfectly happy with both of us being his." _And God help me, I think I am, too._ "Are you taking this ride with me or not?" She reached into her travel bag under the bed. She'd bought the restraints on a whim, with a half-formed idea that she might like Roman to use them on her. This had never even entered her mind.

"NO." He shook his head furiously.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Dean. Do you think I'd ever do anything bad to you?" The idea that he might be afraid of her was a new one, too, but he was reacting like he was, wasn't he?

"No...No, but..."

"If Roman's not here to restrain you, I'm going to have to do it. And I'm not strong enough to myself. You let me put these on you, and I promise you I'll get you all untwisted."

It took him nearly ten seconds, but he finally nodded. "All right."

"Lie back."

He did, watching her face narrowly.

"You have the most beautiful eyes, do you know that?"

"Everyone says they're weird."

"Boring isn't beautiful very often, is it?" She raised his hand to the headboard and closed the cuff around his wrist, then the post. She ran her fingertips down his palm; when he grabbed at them, she laughed and snatched her hand away.

He didn't really start to panic until she had his other hand secured. "Let me go. I don't like this."

"Oh, please." She ran her palm over his cock; it was rock-hard. She could feel the racing of his pulse in it even through his jeans. "I'll let you go if you really want me to, but I'll stop, too. Do you want me to stop?"

He yanked at the restraints. "Do you think I'll let you?"

"I think if I undo one of the cuffs, throw the key for the other one on the bed and run, I'll be long gone before you get loose. What do you think?"

He glared at her, but finally fell back on the bed again. "This better be the best fuck I ever had."

She laughed, which earned her a startled look, and pulled his shirt off. His arms being above his head made it easy to get started; the cuffs made it impossible to finish. If she'd thought this out better, she'd have had him take his shirt off first, but she'd never done this before, so she thought she was to be forgiven.

She wasn't going to repeat the mistake. She unfastened his jeans and pulled them and his boxers off in one tangle of cloth, tossing them aside. When she pulled out a third set of cuffs and secured them on the footboard, he went ballistic.

"NO! Fuck no!"

She was seriously starting to wonder if someone had done something horrible to him under restraint. Wyatt was a likely candidate, wasn't he? "Don't you trust me, Dean?"

He was panting. He was also still very hard. "Do it. Do it."

She went more quickly than she had with his hands, not giving him time to second-guess this. "What do you suppose I'm going to do to you, Dean? I can do anything I want. What would that be?"

"I...don't know."

"Probably something you don't normally let me do, hmm?" She ran her hands over his arms, skin barely skimming over skin. "Something you're so convinced you don't like that you won't even give it a chance." She let her hands slip down to his chest and across his stomach. His body was eternally a surprise to her; he was far more muscular than he looked in his ring gear. And hairier. She ran her fingers through the thatch on his chest, laughing softly at the moan she got in response. "How can anyone like to fuck so much and hate being touched? But you don't really, do you? Right time, right place, and you're all over this."

"Take these fucking handcuffs off and I'll show you all over."

"No." She let her hands slide lower, fingers tracing the lines of his waist and hips. She watched, fascinated, as his cock actually seemed to reach for her, seeking contact. "Ooh, _something_ wants to be touched, doesn't it?"

"Please, please..."

"That's twice as much as I've ever heard that word from you before. I kind of like it." She closed her hand lightly around the base of his cock and gave him one slow stroke, her thumb trailing across the head as she let go.

Someone knocked at the door. "Aww, they're early. Poor you. I'll be right back."

She heard him cursing like a sailor all the way to the door. The delivery boy was definitely working for tips; she had to discourage him very firmly from bringing his armload of bags inside. She tipped him heavily anyway and scooted him off on his way.

"You don't want to keep trying to piss me off, Hollyann."

"If I wanted to piss you off, I'd sit down and eat." She put the bags on the table and went back to sit beside him. "Now, where were we?"

She went back to what she'd been doing, ignoring his increasingly feverish pleas for her to suck his cock, get on it and ride, anything. He was pretty obviously fighting coming, too.

"You might as well not hold it back, Dean. I'm not going to let you fuck me. I want you to come in my hand. Just from being touched."

It didn't take much longer once he gave in to it. He was trying like hell to fuck her hand if he couldn't have anything else, but she'd secured him so he couldn't move very much. He finally just fell back and let her finish him off.

_My lord, we've hit a gusher._ She didn't think it was going to stop; it spilled over her hand and onto him. She loved watching it, knowing she was giving him a kind of pleasure that maybe no one else ever had.

"Men! Make a mess, and then we women have to clean up after you." She bent and started licking, first her hand, then his thighs, and finally his cock.

When Roman walked in 15 minutes later, he wasn't sure what to think. Everything he saw was weirder than the last thing: Dean naked and shackled to the bed, Hollyann serenely sitting in a chair next to the bed feeding him spring rolls, and the openly adoring look in Dean's eyes. Somehow, he thought whatever she'd done had worked better than talking to him.


	25. A Strange Way to Be Delivered

"So I beat them both. Easily. Have I proven myself yet?" Hollyann wasn't enjoying another private chat with Hunter. The last one had been such fun. But there wasn't much choice, was there?

"It's not a question of proving yourself. You never had to do that, or I wouldn't have signed you."

"Then I'm in?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You're not in Japan any more. What you do in the ring isn't all that counts. You're going to have to rethink some of the choices you've made. The friends you've picked, for example."

_This is not happening_. But it was. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Plenty. Everything you do has an effect on your career. Everything. You think about that."

She'd known this could happen; she was running with people management wasn't especially happy with right now. She hadn't expected it to be put in front of her so bluntly, though. He wanted her to think about her choices? Fine. There was another one open to her. Starting tonight.

She thought Alicia looked scared as she made her way to the ring. _You're going to look a lot more scared before I'm done with you, bimbo._

It wasn't hard to do. A shift in the angle of attack on the lotus lock, and Alicia went from trying to escape to flopping and shrieking. The very confused referee took that as a tap-out. Hollyann stood and watched them stretcher Alicia out before demanding a microphone.

"Looks like there's an empty spot in the invitational after all." She dropped the microphone and left the ring.

Dean thought Roman looked worried. He thought the whole thing was kind of hot, actually, but probably a bad idea. "If she keeps rage-denting their bikini models, she's gonna be out of a job."

It was an interesting term for what Hollyann had done, Roman thought. The EMTs were saying Alicia's shoulder was fully dislocated as they'd bundled her off to the hospital. That was one hell of a dent.

"She's mashed up."

"What?"

Dean shook his head. "She needs to get right. To get _put_ right. By you."

"And how exactly do I do that?"

"Just like you do it for me."

But he let it go. Maybe this was her last fury over it being spent and it was out of her system. And hell, she had every right to be pissed off. He'd be wanting to put some pain on someone, too.

And then at a house show two days later, she injured Cameron.

_Damn it babygirl, you LIKED her._ He couldn't get her to talk about it at all; she just got more edgy and defensive every time he tried. What was even weirder was how freaked out Dean seemed to be about it. He was still urgently insisting Roman had to take care of this, had to get her right; Roman still didn't know exactly what it was Dean thought he was supposed to do. Tell her to stop? He'd tried that. She wasn't listening.

Hollyann knew what the score was when she saw her next opponent was Emma. Of course they'd do that eventually, wouldn't they? They had to find out how far she was willing to take her protest. She had no illusions about that. If she backed down, it was over for her; they'd know exactly what hand to hold the stick in from there on. And Emma had to understand that too, surely.

She didn't sleep well the night before, but her decision was made when she woke up. Waking in Roman's arms only made her more certain. _They won't take this from me. And they won't make me some useless thing for you to drag along behind, either._

Emma knew; that was clear about 15 seconds into the match. She tried to end it quickly, but the roll-up she tried to do it with made her vulnerable. Hollyann rolled through it, locked in the torture crab, and cinched down as hard as she could. She ended up disqualified. Emma ended up with torn abdominal muscles.

They'd been ordered not to give her a live mic, too. She solved that by going over to the timekeeper's table and ripping the one next to the ring bell off its anchor point.

"Do you understand now? Suit monkeys, office drones, are you getting it? The friends you've been trying to separate me from? They're the only ones I have left now. _You_ did that, and it's not going to work." She pointed at the ring. "That is the last person I cared if I hurt. What do you think I'll do to the next one?" She flung the mic back on the table and headed for the showers.

"Holy shit. Roman..."

He nodded at Seth. "I'll talk to her. Later. She won't hear a word right now. And the bitch of it is, I don't blame her. She should have been in that match in the first cut. Now she'll be lucky to still have her job at the end of this run." He aimed a kick at the locker room bench that made the whole thing shiver. "Where the hell did Dean go? Maybe we can get out of here before they fire her on the spot."

Seth hadn't even noticed he'd left. They split up and went looking for him.

Seth found Naomi instead.

"Man, I've been looking all over for you guys. I think you'd better come with me. Dean...did something to Hollyann. I think he might still be doing it."

"What?"

"She flipped out in the showers. Like a nervous breakdown or something, screaming and stuff. I guess he heard her. He went in there and chased everyone else out and locked the door. She's crying and he won't open the door...hurry, please."

What he wanted to do was find Roman and let him deal with this, but he didn't think there was time. _Oh shit, Dean, what have you done? What did you finally do to her?_

Banging on the door didn't help, not until he called out, too. "Dean? Open up, man. You got a lot of scared women out here waiting to get dressed."

"A little longer. I need a little longer."

Hollyann screamed. So did several of the women standing around getting an earful.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. Why did you make me have to?" Dean sounded utterly despairing.

_Oh God, he's fucking snapped._ "Dean, let me in."

"I can't. Not now."

Seth turned and grabbed the first woman he got hold of. "Go find Roman. Tell him to get here _now_."

"Why? The cunt deserves it. Whatever that freak's doing to her."

He'd never wanted to hit a woman so much in all his life. Naomi seemed to know it; she grabbed his arm, partly to get his attention and maybe partly to hold it down. "I'll go."

She went off down the hall in a fast walk. When Hollyann screamed again, she turned it to a full-out run.

Roman got there about two minutes later; Seth would have sworn his feet touched the floor twice all the way down the hall. "What the hell's going on?"

Which was when Hollyann screamed again. It sounded for all the world like Dean was singing to her now. Seth watched Roman gather himself.

"It isn't what it seems like. It can't be. Not now." He raised his voice slightly. "Dean? Let me in."

"I can't. Break it."

Roman did, with one short kick. He turned toward the gaggle of women who were trying to push past him into the locker room. "Here's the thing. The first one of you who tries to get in here before I say, Seth's going to throw at the rest of you. So whoever tries it better have a friend you're sure will catch you."

At first he thought he'd been completely wrong about everything, and most of all about this being what it seemed.

Dean was sitting on the floor of the shower room, drenched hair and clothes plastered to him. He was holding Hollyann, who was naked, his arms and legs wrapped around her, rocking her as the shower poured down on them both. Her head was on his shoulder, and Roman couldn't see if she was moving. Or breathing. There was blood smeared all over one wall. Dean had some on his face where the water wasn't hitting. It didn't look like it was his.

_Calm, calm..._ "Dean?"

"I didn't, Roman. I didn't. _She_ did." He looked up, eyes dark with horror. "Why would she?"

"Tell me what happened."

"She was screaming. I thought the Wyatts, maybe. But she..." Her arms were pinned between their bodies. Dean tried to free them, handling her more gently than Roman had ever seen him do with anyone. She fought him, choked, hurt-animal sounds tearing out of her. Dean stopped and went back to rocking her. "She was hitting the wall." He nodded toward where most of the blood stains were. "She broke it. More than once. She was _trying_ to break it."

For a second, Roman thought he meant the wall. But of course he didn't, did he? Dean tried to free one of her arms from their tangle again; this time she let him.

She hadn't so much broken it as mangled it. They heard Seth moan, "Oh, fuck," from over by the door.

Roman took a closer look. _Oh shit, the screaming._ "You tried to fix it."

Dean nodded. "I can't. I tried." He looked down at Hollyann, who still hadn't raised her head from his shoulder. "Why?"

She looked up at him finally. She was smiling. "They made me hurt someone I didn't want to hurt. I never had any control over it at all. They can't make me any more. I can control that."

"Oh, fuck me till I cry." Roman glanced over at Seth. "See if you can find her clothes. She's got to go to the hospital." He reached up and turned off the water. What they were going to do about soaking-wet Dean, he had no idea. He still wasn't letting go of Hollyann, either. "Come on, man. Let's find some towels. You both could use them."

The news at the hospital wasn't good, but it was far from as bad as it could have been, Roman thought. She'd broken two knuckles and two bones in her fingers and was going to be in a cast for six weeks. She'd just narrowly missed needing screws and wires in there.

He didn't know what to do with this, not even a little. She'd said almost nothing since her outburst of an explanation, and he didn't know what to say, either. He wasn't sure he could handle any more brokenness; Dean was about all he could manage of that. It was almost a relief when Dean insisted on being left alone with her and she didn't protest. He needed time to think.


	26. Wicked, Pure

The easiest thing to do was get another room.

The hardest thing to do was not let anyone see how angry he was. At Hollyann for doing this stupid thing. At Roman for not doing something about it. But mostly at himself for expecting anyone else to do something.

_When did you ever depend on anyone else to do things for you? When did you ever believe anyone who said you couldn't do something yourself? Fucking idiot._

At first Dean thought they must have given Hollyann something when they were setting her hand. Her eyes were clear, though; they just didn't hold anything that looked like giving a shit. _Damn it, Roman, isn't she hurt enough?_

He considered the bottle of painkillers they'd given her. Vicodin. They weren't screwing around, either. It was right there on the front: Do not consume alcohol while taking this medication.

_Unless you really, really need to._ He called down to the bar. It took an extra bribe that was probably three times what the thing was worth, but someone finally brought up a bottle of wine.

Hollyann watched the whole thing as if it were some mildly interesting movie she was too lazy to change the channel on. He put a pill between her lips and held the bottle up for her to sip from.

"Isn't this dangerous?"

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I guess I do." He took one himself, with a good hit of wine, then sat down next to her on the bed.

"Dean, I don't - "

"I know. Just relax."

After 15 minutes, he wasn't feeling much. He doubted she was, either; the goodies had some major pain to overcome. He took another, then gave her one, with more wine to chase them.

"I'll pass out."

"No. You could probably have one more, but you won't need it. I just want you feeling a little buzzed, that's all."

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

"That's wine, not sodium pentothal."

"Is it gonna take that for you to tell me the truth?"

"No. How about this: Roman and I are just about done, aren't we?"

"No, darlin'. I really don't think so. But you freaked him out tonight. And he's probably pretty pissed at himself right now, too."

"At himself?"

"Yeah. I told him where you were going. He didn't do anything. I don't think he believed me."

"And just where is it you're so sure I've been going?"

"When's the last time you felt like you had any control? Over anything?"

She smiled at him.

"Yeah. And before you chained me down and hand-jobbed me to death?"

The smile faded as she thought about it. "A long time. A really long time."

He nodded. "So you hurt yourself, because that was you doing it, at least. I've been there. But it's wrong. It's a lie. You hurt yourself because they made you. Wrong answer."

"I know. I knew when I was doing it. But once I got started..."

"It's hard to stop. You get in the dark and it eats you up."

She nodded. "I never felt like that before. I was getting ready to start on the other hand when you barged in."

"You've had a pretty fucked up six months. Part thanks to how stupid I've been. Seeing you do that...it got me smart again. There's another way to go when the dark starts trying to swallow you, but you don't know about it. I do."

"What's that?"

"Swallow it first."

"I did. I'm bad at it, I guess."

"You did it to start with. When you started hurting people...Shit, that turned me on, watching you work. But not just that. You were beating the dark at its own game. Right up until you started hurting people you liked. When you start doing things you don't want to do, you're losing again. Why didn't you just kick Cameron and Emma up the ass and send them away beat, hurt whoever they sent out there next instead?"

"I thought I'd look weak."

"And now?"

"I had it backwards, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but you couldn't have known. I knew. And if I hadn't been so busy trying to find you a babysitter, I would have seen you needed to be told."

"Will you tell me why? Once and for all? It seems like I've asked you a thousand times, and you keep giving me different answers."

"I told you we're not so different. But I thought you wouldn't want me, you couldn't. If there was someone else who you could want, though, someone who wouldn't push me out of the picture, someone I wanted, too..."

"Dean, that's - "

"Don't say crazy. Even if it is. I know what my first mistake was now, though: Thinking you wouldn't ever want me. You do, don't you?"

She nodded.

"And you want Roman, too. I'm good with that, darlin'. So do I. But we've gotta get us right. You and me. No one else is going to do that. Just us."

"How?"

"You should know. You've been doing it." He turned and pulled her against him. "Feel like it a little more, darlin'?"

She smiled and kissed him. "And what were you planning on doing with a couple of my pain pills and half a bottle of wine in you?"

"Going all night." He took her hand and put it on him. "Did I ever tell you that's my superpower?"

She let her hand drift over him, enjoying the sharpening in his eyes. She wasn't enjoying the awkwardness. "I should have busted up my dumb hand first, huh?"

Something she couldn't quite read flickered over his eyes. "When I walked in there, I thought maybe you were...regretting what you did for me. Ashamed, maybe."

"And doing that to punish myself for it? No, Dean. No way." She kissed him again, letting it linger. "I don't regret any it. Not even putting on a show for you at gunpoint."

"If you knew how much I needed that right then..."

"I do now." She was still doing more fumbling than stroking, but he didn't really seem to mind. "Why didn't you get in with us? You must have wanted to."

"Between you...More than anything. But the second I put that gun down, he would of ripped my head off." He turned her onto her back, moving a pillow over for her to rest her hand on. "You just lay back. I'm gonna get you so right."

He'd obviously been paying attention to all their lessons. He undressed her slowly, working her shirt carefully around her cast until it was obvious it wasn't going to come off whole. "I always kind of wanted to tear your clothes off. Remind me to give you a bunch of shirts until you can get some with stretchy sleeves or something." He tore the sleeve up the seam, careful not to jostle her arm too much, and got rid of the shirt. The rest of her clothes were less complicated, but he still took his time.

"You're right. I don't like anyone touching me. Just the two of you. But you both like being touched. A lot. I always wondered why he did, but he never pushed me like you do." He looked at her with frank hunger, then rested his hands on her hips and slid them up her body to her shoulders. "You're so fucking beautiful." He tapped his fingertips on the cast. "Don't ever do anything like this to yourself again. If you feel...bad, come to me. Or to Roman. Better yet, to both of us."

"And what exactly is some combination of the two of you going to do about it?"

"Fuck you back in line, baby."

She braced for the pounding she assumed that meant was coming from him; she didn't mind, not if he needed it that way.

She felt utterly mind-read when he slipped into her slowly and gently, his thrusts more like caresses deep inside her than fucking. "This is about what you need this time. It's you that's got to get right."

It got rougher toward the end, but she didn't mind. He was good at it that way, really good, and trying to fuck his way into her skin with her was always going to be his response to pleasure. It was as much a part of being with him as being driven slowly insane by the hair on his chest scratching her nipples.

She nearly brained him with the damn cast, but managed to just avoid it, resting her hand on his back as the other tangled in his hair. "Dean, oh, baby..."

He smiled down at her, the real one he let free so rarely. "I like that. You should start calling me that."

Dean smiled when he picked up his phone, which had been beeping feverishly for at least an hour; that was when it woke him up, at least. Roman could just stew in it for a while longer.

He waited another 15 minutes, until he was sure Hollyann wasn't quite ready to wake up and have a second helping of getting right.

43 unread messages. He bit back a laugh. _You can stop now. She's fine. All sweet and sleepy._

_Bring her back._

_When she wakes up. And I've had a little more. It was good. I suppose that much I should thank you for._

_I was an asshole._

_You sure the fuck were, and who knows one better than me?_

_Does that mean I don't get your help to get her to forgive me?_

_She already did that. You better deserve it, man._

_Sounds like it's you that's going to be the hard case. Tell her I need her help with you, then._

* * *

The whole roving backstage internet-content guys thing drove Hollyann crazy. She'd gotten used to backstage being sacrosanct while she was in Japan.

And she was going to have to get unused to it.

"Hey," RBIC Guy said excitedly, "There's The Shield over there, let's see if they'll play along." By the time he got over to them, he'd seen Hollyann's hand. "What happened?"

"I fell in the shower."

"How long do you expect to be out?"

"The doctors say six weeks. I say a month. What is it you're wanting us to play along with, anyway?"

"Oh! We're playing That '70s Game today."

"And that works how, exactly?" She wasn't quite sure how it was she was doing the talking, but the guys had fallen back and were pretty obviously enjoying it.

"It's March 30, 1974. What are the other members of The Shield doing right now?"

That _other members_ rippled over her like warm water; being part of something was a good feeling. She solemnly considered Seth for a few seconds. "He's in a band. Lead guitar."

"And Roman?"

She looked at him and was met with a _Yeah? Aaaaaand?_ expression that made her start giggling. "I don't know, man, I really don't. 1974...Well, I won't be going into any hotel rooms in Las Vegas with him, I know that."

Roman looked utterly lost; so did the interviewer. Dean doubled over laughing after a few seconds of staring at her in disbelief. Seth just waited to hear her last answer.

"And then of course we have Dean Ambrose..."

"Of _course_ we do," Dean said, giving him a wide-eyed look of sheer innocence that made Hollyann want to throw her head back and howl laughing.

"Whatever it is, he's doing it on the waterbed in the back of his van."

Seth gave up and sat on the floor and howled. Hollyann watched Roman try and utterly fail to keep a poker face on. Dean just looked at her like, _Later. We'll see about you later._

She wondered if it was too much to ask the universe to have them forever. _That's all, just forever. Not so big a deal, is it?_


	27. These Are My Gods, These Are My Scars

A week of awkwardness was all she could take. Apparently it was all Dean could take, too; he pulled one of his occasional vanishing acts. But for a change he made sure his reasons were clear. _You two need to fix it, or I'm gonna chain you to each other until you do. I know where you keep them, remember that._

That left her waiting alone for Roman to get back. They hadn't spent any time alone in the past week; it was a measure of just how screwed up things were that she wasn't looking forward to it.

She was trying to convince herself she was actually reading her book when he came in. He looked around and got the picture in his usual to-the-point way. "Dean bailed on us?"

She nodded.

"I thought he might." He walked over and plucked the book out of her hand, then stretched out next to her. "Are we doing this? Or is he going to come back and still be pissed as a bear at us?"

"I don't know what to do, Roman. I hate this."

"I'll tell you what, then. We're dead in the water if you can't trust me."

"I do trust you."

"No, you don't. When you trust somebody, you go to them when you have a problem."

"It felt too much like whining. You couldn't do anything about it; no one could."

"I would have stopped you from doing what you did. I could have tried to make you feel better, at least."

"I know. I've been so dumb about it all. They pushed me, and I just let myself be pushed."

"And told yourself you were alone. You're _not_. Even if you ignore that I'm supposed to make you not feel that way, you're part of a group here. You do know they aren't just doing this to be bastards to you, right? It's to piss us off, too. And babygirl, it's working. This isn't just your fight, not any more."

"I don't know if it even is a fight, not now. Roman, you know what's going to happen when I come back."

Of course he did: She'd have to start from the bottom of the heap again, and even when she managed to work her way back up - which he had no doubt she could - she was going to smack right into that glass ceiling again. "Yeah, I know. We all do. But we might just be holding the stick by then."

"And if you're not?" She smiled at the glare he shot her. "All right, if _we're_ not? It might just be better for everyone if I ask for my release. I wouldn't be a stick to beat you guys with any more, and I wouldn't just be spinning my wheels."

"You're Shield now. That means you don't get to make a decision like that without us having a say in it." He tilted her chin up so she was looking at him. "And you're with me. That means I get extra say. I want you here, and doing what you should be doing. They're leaning on us right now, yeah. But we can make them stop."

She snuggled into him, sighing contentedly when he draped his arm over her shoulders. "So what you're saying, more or less..."

"Is to believe in The Shield." He smiled. "And maybe just a little bit extra in me, right?"

"You make it pretty easy to, you know that?"

"Good." He leaned over and kissed her, taking his time about it. "You've been making it pretty easy to like tank tops, too."

She'd gone with them because they were easy to get around the cast; this was nothing but pure bonus.

"I've been missing you smiling at me like that, babygirl." He caught her around her waist and pulled her down flat on her back. "You just get your bed rest now."

"I don't think that's the usual recommendation a broken hand."

"Never mind that. Doctor Roman's prescribing now. Guess I'd better examine you first."

He peeled her clothes off slowly, almost lazily. He just smiled, shook his head, and moved her hand back down to her side every time she tried to help. "You let me, babygirl. If you haven't figured out I love you by now, I'll just have to show you." He smiled at the wide eyes staring at him as he started running his hands over her from her ankles up. "So soft. How do you do that?"

She murmured something she was sure made no sense at all. Her mind was too busy with what he'd said. _He said it, he did. Let this one be telling the truth. Please, just the truth._

She did feel his hands leave her, though, and moaned in protest.

"Shh, babygirl. I'll be right back." He got up, rid himself of his clothes, and settled back down next to her. He laughed softly and caught her hand as she reached for his cock, hard and so enticingly close to her.

"You know better than to touch the doctor's instruments. Looks like someone wants her temperature taken."

"If you think that's an ear thermometer, the screaming is about to start."

He smiled and rolled onto her. "Don't worry, I know just where you need this."

He did, too. She moaned and arched to him as he slid himself into her, slowly, so very slowly. Sheathed in her, he started moving more aggressively, loving the happy, turned-on sounds she was making.

"You've got a little fever. I've got an injection that's gonna clear that right up. You just lay back and take all your medicine, everything you've got coming to you."

"Mmm, yes, Doctor."

He laughed softly and slid his hands under her ass, pulling her into his thrusts. "You gonna tell me, babygirl? Can you? Say it for me. Say it while you come."

She'd have sang it for him if he wanted that, never mind it gave him power over her. Never mind that or anything else. "Love you, oh God, I love you. Please..."

"I've got you, sweet girl. Let it go, ride it out."

She did, moaning and whispering broken bits of words all the while.

_It's better. It HAS to be better._

Neither of them woke up when Dean came in. He stood and watched them sleeping, Roman's head on Hollyann's stomach, her good hand tangled in his hair. They were both smiling. _I can do good things, I can. Look at them._

He knew being watched would wake them eventually, but he didn't want to stop. He considered them the most beautiful things he'd ever seen, and together...

"Hi. Want to come in with us?" Hollyann was smiling at him in a sleepy way he recognized. _Someone got it good._

"I want breakfast."

Hollyann smiled. It was probably a little too much to expect him to ever be snuggly. She stirred Roman's hair gently with her fingertips, letting him wake slowly and easily. He came up smiling. "What's on your mind, babygirl?"

"Getting Dean fed before he decides we might taste good."

"I already know you do. Both of you. I was thinking more like pancakes. For now, anyway. Come on, get up."

So much for a lazy morning in bed. But she didn't mind, not really. And she was pretty hungry, too.

She stayed in a little pocket of serenity all day, never mind the voice in the back of her mind trying to remind her that men lied about that, they did it all the time, and hadn't part of the hell she'd been through in the past six months been because a man did that to her?

But it didn't matter. She was with him, she was happy, and she wasn't going to let worrying about tomorrow screw up today any more. Her serenity didn't come undone until they told her they wanted her at the arena with them that night. Her plan right from the start had been to stay at the hotel and avoid any more questions about how she'd gotten injured. The on-air ones weren't bad, but there was some stuff going around backstage that she'd just as soon let die without her presence to feed it.

"Face 'em down," Roman said, smiling. "Tell 'em to fuck off. Or tell them Dean likes it rough. You know most of them think that's what happened already." A gleam of mischief flickered across his eyes. "Or tell them we both do."

Their plan was simple and to the point. They didn't know yet which of them was going in against Kane, but she'd go out ahead of whoever it was and do a little commentary hijacking. "Don't let them forget you have a beef with management while you're at it," Seth told her. "Don't let the people forget."

It turned out to not be much of a hijacking. She was highly amused to watch the three announcers stammer and trip over themselves to get her a chair and a headset. Cole even helped her with the headset when the cast proved awkward; the cameras caught that, of course. He took the opportunity to ask about the injury and how her recovery was going.

"I've got a bunch of broken bones in there. The doctors are saying six weeks, but I'm targeting the end of next month."

"There are rumors all over social media about how you were injured. If you'd like a chance to clear that up..."

"It was just a stupid accident. I fell, and I did a really bad job of catching myself."

"The timing wasn't so good for you, was it?"

"No worse than any other time, really. I wasn't offered a spot in the invitational, so I didn't have one to lose."

"Why do you think you were overlooked?"

Here it was. "I wasn't overlooked. I was intentionally passed up. The Authority doesn't like my choice of friends."

JBL snorted. "Come on! Did you catch the conspiracy bug from these two or something?"

"Think what you want. It doesn't change that I've proven I deserve a title shot, and I've been excluded from even that much of an opportunity."

Before he could argue further, Lawler excused himself to announce the results of the fan voting. It was a relief to her when Roman won in a blowout; questions about him, she could deal with.

They started right away, too. "So, are you _especially_ pleased he won?"

"Whoever won, Kane's going to be an _especially_ unhappy man tonight. I'm not the only one who's had enough of bureaucratic games."

"But it _is_ public knowledge that you and Roman Reigns are linked romantically."

"Yes, it is." She'd decided if they were going to dance around, she wasn't going to make it any easier.

Roman broke up that line of questioning by circling around to the announce table and pausing to run a hand over her hair. "Make my woman unhappy, and you'll make me unhappy. You three want to be gentlemen over here."

Absolutely, they all hastened to assure him. Hollyann was just glad she hadn't gone to the trouble of denying anything.

She knew she wasn't doing world-beating work on commentary once the match started; she was too busy watching it. It didn't last long once the interference started. It wasn't the first time she'd regretted that Kane and the Outlaws weren't toting around a manager. All this cast, and no one to hit with it.

"Not going in to help?"

JBL again. She was getting seriously annoyed at him. "Looks like they have it covered, wouldn't you say? Besides, as you love to point out, I'm out here to talk, not to fight. When I'm ready to fight, it's AJ who'd better be watching her back - her or whoever walks out of Wrestlemania with that title."

She was spared any more of his bullshit by Roman coming over to collect her as soon as the opposition had made their retreat. "Everything good here?"

She thought JBL was looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Good." He swept a glare across the announcers. "Good for you."

She wondered if JBL would even realize he owed her one.


	28. Into the Woods I Quietly Go

_Sorry to everyone getting alerts from me and/or this story for the posting shitstorm last night. I wanted to get everything back in place so I can keep going!_

* * *

Having a week off felt strange to Hollyann even after so short a time back on the road. It felt even stranger because she had nothing at all to do; they hadn't even signed her up for a stint at Axxess. But when she floated the idea that she should just go home for the week and come back the night before the card, she was promptly and firmly outvoted.

She was glad almost immediately; she fell wildly in love with New Orleans on sight. The food was stunning, the people were easy-going in the extreme, the ambience made something in her want to sing, and the nightlife was fun in a laid-back way that appealed to her a lot. _I could live here_, she thought the second day. _I could live here for the rest of my life and be very happy doing it._

If it kept doing to Roman what it had been for the past couple of days, she was definitely going to bring him along. He seemed amused by her instant love affair with the city, but he wasn't immune, either; it brought out a romantic streak in him that she hadn't suspected he had. They fed each other beignets at Cafe du Monde and bites of muffuletta sitting in the grass in Audubon Park; they made out like a pair of horny teenagers (to the renewed delight of Twitter) on a bench at the zoo; they spent hours wandering the French Quarter, where Hollyann showed a previously undiscovered talent for finding very strange bookstores where women served them cups of herbal tea and stared openly and appreciatively at him.

Dean was happy to run with them at night - very happy, in fact; the slightly grotty nightside of the city seemed to suit him - but he was usually nowhere to be found during the day. As he could seemingly anywhere, familiar with the city or not, he simply vanished when he didn't want to be found.

"Where does he _go_?"

Roman shook his head. "I don't know. I always figured he needed his time alone, so I've never pushed him about it." He looked troubled. "And that helped Wyatt get away with what he was doing for a lot longer. It wasn't a _thing_ if Dean vanished for a day or two."

He did seem aware of that now, Hollyann thought. He might disappear overnight, but never through the following day, not since then.

She thought she might be granted a hint when Dean asked her to go somewhere with him the third night. Roman seemed all right with it, if a little tentative; he had, after all, had her almost entirely to himself the past couple of days.

She was expecting a bar crawl, and probably not a safe or an especially clean one. She was stunned to silence when Dean turned the car out of the city, first on the interstate, then on increasingly impassable side roads. "Where are we going?"

"To do something I have to tonight."

They ended up abandoning the car in front of a huge, muddy pothole that it wouldn't have had a hope of making it through. "We can walk. It isn't much further."

_It_ turned out to be a clearing in the woods. She could hear the soft sloshing of the lake and the distant buzz of cars on the bridge, but there was no light at all but a fingernail sliver of moon. Dean put his jacket down for her to sit on and vanished into the woods. He came back a few minutes later with a huge armload of wood. He'd gathered a dozen armloads before he was happy with the result and lit it up.

It wasn't a campfire; it was an absolute bonfire. "We're going to get arrested, Dean. They have to be able to see this for miles."

"No one's going to come out here." He picked up a long, slim branch he'd set aside, drew a circle around them and the fire, then broke the branch and threw it into the flames. He said something she didn't understand as he was making the circle; it had the cadence of something learned by rote, and for all the world sounded like Latin to her.

"What was that?"

"Something I learned a long time ago. Come here."

Freaked out as she was, she did. She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it, too. He watched, smiling unnervingly, as she took off her clothes without being told.

"On the ground. On your hands and knees."

"Dean, I don't - "

"_Now_."

She did as he said. She didn't want what this usually meant he was going to give her, but she'd take it for him. She was suddenly too turned on to say no. She wasn't sure why.

He dropped to his knees behind her, his cock already rock-hard. _I'm here. I brought her. Please make it be._

She cried out in shock, pain, and pleasure when he drove himself into her where she was wet and ready for him. He spared her no gentleness, or even consideration. He wanted to come, and to do it as deep in her as he could bury himself.

She moaned softly when he did, and more loudly when she realized he was still hard and still going at her. The second time finished it; he pulled out, and she slumped over on her side, gasping in mingled pleasure and frustration, hovering near an orgasm he'd denied her.

He watched her in the fading light of the fire. The color of it on her skin made him ache. He wanted her again, and damned if he wasn't ready to take her again. _This HAS to mean it's happening. It has to._

She cried out in protest when he pushed her to her hands and knees again; she was exhausted and sore, and pretty sure there was a nice crop of bruises started where he'd grabbed her hips while he was pounding away at her. She struggled when his fingers found the same spots.

"Shut up and take it. You want more in you, don't you?"

She didn't have to ask what he meant, and she probably couldn't have worked up enough language _to_ ask. But she did want it, all he could pump into her. He was no more considerate than he'd been before, but she didn't care. It wasn't what either of them was after, and admitting it to herself made it better when he finished without getting her off again.

This time when she slumped over onto her side, he was sure she fell asleep. He went around to where he could watch her, but she couldn't see him. He asked. He waited. Eventually the answer came.

"Why not? Why _not_ me? I want it to be."

Hollyann listened to his furious whispering, eyes closed, wondering if she was hearing a mental break in the making. Somehow, she didn't think so. But she didn't give him any sign she wasn't sleeping. She was flat-out scared to open her eyes. There might be nothing there. Or there might be something. She wasn't sure which would be worse.

"I'd take care of them. I could...I could love them."

He seemed to her to be waiting for answers to his statements. And getting them.

"I _could_. Why does everyone else get a chance and I don't? When did I ever ask for anything else from you?"

He sounded like he was crying. She wanted to go to him so much, it gathered as pain in her chest. She couldn't.

"It isn't my fault. I didn't ask for it. Who would? That doesn't mean I have to be that way too, does it?"

_Oh, Dean._ She wasn't even thinking about who he was or wasn't talking to any more. She just ached for him.

"Don't take them from me. Please."

She didn't know if he got an answer to that or not. It was the last thing he said.

She waited a while to call to him.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not very. Come here and lay down with me. It's cold."

He didn't think that was the problem; her skin was warm from the fire, soothing against him. His body had apparently decided it was satisfied for now with three times in the space of about an hour. For once, he didn't mind just being held and touched.

"Dean, what just happened here?"

"Sex." He smiled into her hair, knowing she wouldn't see. She was just going to love that answer.

She smacked his shoulder lightly with the heel of her hand. "You pain. What _else_ happened?"

"Nothing. I tried to. I thought..." He shrugged, shifting against her. "Nothing else."

"Then who were you talking to?"

"Sounds like you were awake a little longer than you said." He thought about how to answer her question; it wasn't a simple thing. He didn't know for sure himself. "Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. Just thinking out loud."

She burrowed into his warmth, her arms tightening around him. "No one's going to take us from you, Dean."

He wished he could believe that, too.


	29. You Won't Burn, You Won't Bleed

"Seth? Wake up."

"Mmm?"

Miranda smiled at the happy, sleepy sound that said she'd done a fine job last night of taking care of the pre-Wrestlemania jitters _and_ the insomnia, too. But she needed him awake now. She'd thought about waking him last night when it happened, but what good would it have done? He'd needed the sleep, and there wasn't anything to be done about it then, anyway. There probably wasn't now, either, but he needed to know. She shook his shoulder. "Come on, wake _up_."

"Redneck foreplay."

"What?"

"_Hey, y'all awake?_" When it didn't get the laugh he was expecting and hoping for he opened his eyes and took a good look at her. She was worried; it was vivid in her eyes. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Something happened last night. I'm not sure what, but it did."

She told him as best she could; it was all so weird and vague. The dream had started out very pleasantly, if strangely. There was sex, _good_ sex, that she was both involved in and not. She couldn't see the other people, but she could feel them, both of them - the man's instinct-driven, blinding lust and the woman's utter surrender to it. She'd tasted both, and was fairly sure she'd had an orgasm in her sleep. She was very sure she recognized the feelings, that mind-bending _need_.

She tried not to think about that night. In a just world, it would be a good memory. In a just world, she'd be just getting over morning sickness now, and shopping for new clothes. It wasn't a just world.

And then she'd felt something else, the thing that worried her even in the light of day. It was another part of the memory she tried not to have - that presence that had hovered over what she and Seth had done that night, that had overseen it, maybe even fed the force of it. Nodens, they'd been told to call it.

"Are you sure, baby?"

She wasn't, not entirely, but close enough that she was scared. "I think it's your friends." Seth gave her the look he always did when she referred to them that way, but he didn't get started on it again. No matter how they turned it over, it came out the same: She liked Roman, was getting at least a little used to Dean, and was entirely content with her and Hollyann's apparently mutual desire to avoid each other. "Whichever one she gave it up to last night, they woke..._that_ up again."

"What if it was both of them?" He couldn't resist; the idea of the three of them going at it made Miranda squirm for some reason.

"Just one. I only felt one man and one woman. I wish I could have told which one, but I'm not even sure it was them at all."

"You're close to sure, though, aren't you?"

She nodded.

"Which means..."

"She's probably pregnant. And someone had better tell her about it before she gets in the ring again."

Seth could hear the jag of hurt and bitterness in her voice. And damn, it _did_ hurt. A lot of his dealing with it had been - and still was - about discovering how much he'd wanted a baby he hadn't known existed until it was too late. And he knew _someone_ meant him, too; there was no way in hell Miranda was going to be able to bring herself to do it. Honestly, he'd rather tell one of the guys and let them deal with telling Hollyann; he was having a hard time imagining a conversation that started with _Oh, hey, you might be knocked up_. But there was no clue which one of them to tell. And as for the rest of it, he wasn't sure where to begin, no matter who he sat down with.

He had something else to take care of now. The frenzy, the feeling of taking and possessing her, had gone away when the other weirdness had. He missed it sometimes; the sex had been amazing. But secretly, way down where no one could see, he wouldn't say it was the best he'd ever had, or even that _they'd_ ever had. That had been during the past couple of months, as she'd come to him for love and comfort and to give him the same. He was glad no one knew he was getting that mush-brained, except maybe her now that she needed him.

She was no less eager coming to him than she'd been, and neither was he; it was the goal that was different. Rocking and grinding in her, loving the sounds of her pleasure in it, there was nothing else to think about for a while, just how damn good it was.

After, half-dozing with Miranda cuddled up in his arms, Seth decided to talk to Roman. He just couldn't quite wrap his brain around having that conversation with Dean.

* * *

"You couldn't be bothered to shave?" Hollyann smiled and fussed with Dean's tie. In a stunning development, he'd tied it wrong. But at least it wasn't a clip-on.

"A suit. I don't belong in a _suit_."

She could have argued that, and would have done it from on her knees if there were time. He looked smoking hot as far as she was concerned. After the ceremony, then. "You look fine. More than fine, actually." His hair, freshly washed and not dripping wet or slicked back for once, was a mop of blond waves - falling into his eyes, of course. She couldn't resist running her fingers through it and unburying his eyes from under there.

"I want you to go with me."

It wasn't their first turn around this maypole. "I wasn't invited, Dean."

"I can bring who I want."

"I know, but it's not the smartest way to play things. If they thought I deserved to be there, I'd have been invited." That was the last insult stacked on injury, and she knew it.

"The hell with smart. They'll probably be happy there's someone there to keep an eye on me."

There was that. But there was also the practical side of it. "It's three hours to the ceremony, and I don't have a dress. Makeup, shoes, hair..."

"Go get a dress."

_Eminently and throughly male_, she thought, smiling. "I can't just waltz into Wal-Mart and buy a formal gown, Dean."

"Waltz into someplace else. I don't want to go alone. I want to go with _you_."

She was supposed to say no to that? She made him swear half a dozen times that if she wasn't back in time for him not to be late, he'd go without her, then she jetted out the door.

She actually did have an idea where she could go. She'd been meaning to go back to the little vintage clothing store she'd stumbled across a couple of days ago. It was a big chance that they'd have something appropriate and that would fit her, but if they did...

They did. The second dress they brought out was _it_ - off the shoulder, sheer almost to the knee, where it wasn't encrusted with what had to be a million silver beads that looked like they were liquid flowing down it. They even found shoes and earrings, and when she explained the time constraints she was under, called someone from another shop to do her hair and makeup. The whole thing was marred by the brace she'd graduated to a couple of days ago, but at least it wasn't a huge plaster cast any more. She was pretty sure her credit card was smoking when she put it back in her purse, but it was worth every penny.

The look on Dean's face when she got back was worth twice what she'd paid. "_Fuck_. You're gonna burn their eyes out. They're all gonna hate me."

It hit him like a smack to the back of the head: _Are you just gonna let some...thing take this away? Dumbass, you can fight. Even if you can't have everything, you can have as much as you don't let it take away._

He started fighting on the red carpet, beginning with the great pleasure of watching Byron Saxton's eyes just about fall out of his head. Dean thought it was a combination of how Hollyann looked and her not being there with Roman. He drew a line in the sand without a word, by being very plain about where his hands were on her. Saxton stammered a couple of times, and Hollyann shot him an _I will kill you in your sleep_ look.

"Don't want to be outed?" he whispered as they got themselves out from in front of the cameras.

"Half the locker room already thinks it. I just wish you'd warned me."

"I just did. Kiss me."

"I'll smear my lipstick."

He grinned. "I'll do that later." He knew where he wanted it smeared, too. "Kiss."

_And why the hell not?_ She even had heels enough on to make it not awkward. She also had bare skin enough for him to put his hands all over. She heard some whistles and applause from the fan mob by the door. "I think we're supposed to mingle."

"I don't do that."

She was more relieved than anything. They fell back to a spot where they could see and mostly not be seen. She was wondering what she was supposed to do when Dean got bored or restless - and that seemed inevitable - when Roman walked in. She was busy having most of the air knocked out of her lungs, so it took some time to register: He wasn't alone, either. She didn't know the woman, but it was pretty obvious the woman knew him. Quite well.

She didn't realize Dean was hauling her away, down some kind of service corridor, until they were halfway down it. She yanked her arm away and took three steps back from him. "You knew. You wanted me to see that."

He nodded.

She wasn't sure what was going to come out of her mouth when she opened it again. She wasn't expecting laughter, but it was what she got. "Great. Oh, that's just great. How long have you known?"

"Since this afternoon. I saw her hanging around the hotel."

"Who is she? Do you know that, too?"

"An ex of his. Or she _was_ an ex, I guess."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you ignorance is bliss?"

"I wanted you to know. And I wanted people to see you not alone. You don't have to _look_ dumped, too." She saw one of his hands clench into a fist. "Neither do I."

"Oh, you're probably still okay. I'm the one who got replaced."

He shook his head furiously, putting his hair in disarray again. "He went behind _both_ our backs." He raked his hands through his hair, which made more rather than less of a mess of it. "And darlin', you and I are going to do what we have to do."

"Which is?"

"Smile and go on with business like it doesn't matter. We've got jobs to do, and we're going to do them."

"You're nuts. I'm not going to - "

"Yes you _are_. This is still a group, and you're still part of it. You smile and do your thing, just like I'm going to."

She felt sick, angry, and like she was going to cry. And still she couldn't help it. "_You're_ going to smile?"

"Shit, no; that's your job."

"Let's get on with it, then." She turned to walk back up the corridor. He stopped her with a firm grip on her wrist.

"I need to know first. Tell me what he did. To _us_."

"Nothing." She wasn't sure what to say other than that. She'd never thought of Dean in terms of an _us_ made up of two. She wouldn't have thought he did, either. _Looks like I've been wrong about a fuck of a lot of things._

"Good. That's good. If he'd fucked us up..."

"Dean..."

"I know, _what_ us, right? We're one now."

He was right. It wasn't sane, and it wasn't logical, but it was so. She took his arm when he startled the hell out of her by offering it. It would help hold her up.

She spent most of the evening feeling like she was two steps to the left of reality. _Holy shit, I think I'm in honest-to-God shock._ When seeing them finally overwhelmed that feeling and slammed her back into sync with everything else, she reached out blindly toward Dean, not really expecting anything. The man she thought would be there when she reached out was sitting two rows away with another woman, wasn't he?

Dean took her hand, giving it a firm squeeze before he rested the intertwined pair of them on his knee. She couldn't read what was in his eyes, not at all.


	30. Rise, Put on Your Bravest Face

They went back to the hotel as soon as they could without being obvious. Dean had her wait in the lobby; his plan, as much of one as he had, was to get their things and see if it was possible to find another room tonight.

"If he's there..."

"I won't start anything. That's all I'm promising."

She spent the time he was gone chasing down hotel rooms on her phone. She finally tracked one down in a town 60 miles away; it was better than she'd hoped for, actually. Dean came back not looking like he'd been in a fight; that was better than she'd hoped for, too. She gave him directions to the town the hotel was in, then lapsed into silence.

Dean knew what she was doing: detaching. He'd been guilty of it often enough himself. He left her to her thoughts for as long as he could stand to.

"It doesn't work. Take it from someone who knows."

"What doesn't?"

"Shutting it out and pretending that makes it disappear."

She didn't answer. He thought she'd already come to her own conclusions about that. If she'd concluded wrong, she'd have to figure it out for herself; telling her wouldn't change it.

The hotel was a little shabby, but it was clean. It would do. All it really had to be was a place to sleep and a place to hide out. She hadn't said whether it was necessity or some kind of statement on her part, but there was one bed. He let that go without comment.

When he reached for her in the dark, she went to him. She wasn't even a little in the mood, but if he wanted it, that was fine. _This is what we are. Maybe that's better. More honest._

But all he did was pull her up against him. When the tears started, she was more angry at herself for it than anything else. _Don't be such a baby. It won't help. And you should be used to this by now._ But she wasn't. Dean just held on to her and let her get him all wet.

When the storm had passed, he turned her face up to his and kissed her. He could taste tears on her lips. "I won't do that to you. Never."

She put her fingers against his lips. "Don't promise me anything, Dean. I don't ever want to hear another one. We'll be fine if you don't do that, all right?"

He moved her hand gently. "So...I'm supposed to promise not to promise?"

"I guess, yeah. You don't have to feed me a bunch of bullshit. I'm not going to quit putting out."

"Stop trying to be cold. You're bad at it."

"I'll be a damn sight better off if I learn."

"No. Being someone you're not is going to make you more unhappy, not less." It wouldn't make him happy, either, but she probably didn't want to hear about that, not right now.

She'd said nothing had changed, but that obviously wasn't true. He didn't think she'd lied; she was just wrong. However much or little she'd trusted him, that had taken one hell of a hit. Never mind that it was Roman's fault; he was the one who had to earn it back. He wasn't really sure how to do that, other than by doing his best not to fuck up.

She fell asleep pressed close to him. No, cold was never going to work so well for her. He was glad. Something warm in his life was getting to be a habit.

His phone beeped as he was about to doze off, too. He almost didn't bother with it; he wasn't in the mood to deal with a pile of whatever justifications Roman had ready for this.

_Where the fuck are you?_

Dean grimaced. He hadn't even thought about Seth in all this. Not good. _It seemed like a good idea to clear out. We'll be back in plenty of time for the match. Don't sweat._

_What happened?_

_You saw._

_Yeah. I'm sorry._

_I'll live. Hollyann's not doing so great, but she'll make it, too. She's a pretty tough babe._

_Is this going to cause problems? I'm pretty fucking tired of shoveling shit between you two._

Dean smiled. Yeah, he must be. _If he doesn't cause any, I'm not either. You can tell him that if you want._

_Tell him yourself, man. I put the shovel down, remember? And you have to talk to each other sooner or later._ It looked like he was going to have to have that talk with Dean after all. He wasn't sure what was going on when Roman's ex turned up; he still wasn't sure what the hell happened, but he wasn't the one who needed to hear it any more, obviously.

_The team's still the team. Even when we're all pissed at each other, right?_ He hoped so, anyway.

Dean ended up having to almost bully Hollyann into the car. He wasn't surprised she didn't want to go to the arena, but hiding from it wasn't going to make it go away. And he wanted her there with him, too.

"Face up to it and it'll be over, darlin'. And then you don't have to be anywhere you don't want to go unless it's for business."

"You should find someone _else_ for business. How do you guys decide when there needs to be a vote? I think there needs to be about that."

He winced. "You kinda just did call for one by telling me. We can pretend you didn't."

"Then I'll tell Seth. Right now."

His eyes narrowed. "Do you _want_ to leave?"

"No. But I won't stay and be slow poison to the whole group if I can stop it by walking away. And...I don't know how I can face him day after day after day like that. How will you?" She thought that might be as close as she could ever come to saying it: _You loved him, too. How are you standing this?_

"Business is business. If you can get right with that, you won't have to leave."

She thought he muttered something else. "What?"

"_Me_. You won't have to leave _me_, all right? I know I'm not supposed to say stuff like that, but I don't want you to go." The look on his face was pure _Okay, go on - laugh_.

"I'm sure we can come to some arrangement you'll be happy with."

"_Stop_ that. I told you. You don't do bitter any better than you do cold. I don't want you to do either one."

"You prefer sweet and warm?"

"Like you can't imagine. But we've got work to do right now. Ready to go?"

* * *

"So that's it. She wants to know if we still want her with us. She said whatever we decide, that's what she'll do. I say she stays."

Hollyann had made herself scarce for a while. Dean had told her he was going to take care of her request right away, before everything else went down, and she shouldn't be in the room for it. He thought it could go either way, because he had no idea how Seth would vote. He doubted Seth really cared much either way.

Dean and Seth turned to look at Roman.

"If she didn't want to leave, she wouldn't have brought it up. Let her do what she wants. She goes."

Seth shot Roman a look Dean couldn't work out. "We still need her for what we brought her in for in the first place. You know, the part where she has clothes on. She stays."

Dean was delighted that she looked as relieved as she did when he told her. She was staying in back for their Wrestlemania match - there simply wasn't anything for her to do out there, especially still injured - but he went out there aware that she'd be waiting.

The match didn't last long enough for her to have done much, anyway. They all had their frustrations to take out. Dean thought they might get through this, if only because they took them out on their opponents instead of on each other.

Hollyann, on the other hand, didn't have anyone to take hers out on. She was waiting when they got to the back, all right - but she was waiting for Roman.

"Let's say what we have to say. Then you don't have to talk to me any more. It might piss your girlfriend off."

Seth winced and looked at Dean, then kept on walking. Dean went on down the hall, too. But not very far.

"Maybe you don't have the right to be mad at me." Roman glanced over to where Dean was looking daggers and broken glass at him.

"What, he's a _surprise_ to you now? I...I might have been able to understand if you wanted someone else. But you _lied_ to us, Roman. And don't start telling me how you didn't because you didn't say anything. That _is_ a lie. Hiding things is a lie."

"I know. I'm sorry, more than I can say."

"At least tell me why, then. Make up for it a little."

He was already looking uncomfortable. It amped up to actual suffering. "I can't any more. God, it was never going to last, not like we all were. I wanted something normal with you, something sane. I didn't expect you to turn out to be...like he is."

For a few seconds, she was furious enough to hit him. She had to take a few deep breaths before she realized it wasn't because he'd insulted her. She wanted to punch him in the nuts for slagging on Dean like that.

"Are you...you know, gonna be all right?"

"Me? Oh, sure. Us people who aren't _normal_ and _sane_ are pretty tough." If she didn't get away from him right now, she was going to flip out. The last thing she wanted to do was give him any ammunition for the _You're crazy_ gun.

Dean was waiting for her. There was that at least, wasn't there? "I've gotta get out of here. The afterparty stuff...I just can't. I'm sorry."

"I'm not. Let's go."

They almost made it out the door before Seth caught them. "You going back to wherever you went last night?"

Dean nodded.

"Why don't you crash with us? We've got a double for some reason, and there's something we need to talk to you about."

Dean had been thinking about the possibilities of some privacy, but that _we_ was intriguing, wasn't it? Probably meant to be. He glanced at Hollyann, who shrugged briefly. "Yeah, all right."

* * *

Miranda had made Seth promised to try as hard as he could to get Dean and Hollyann back to their room. _I'll order food and get whatever else we need._ He hadn't thought to ask what else they could possibly need.

He started wondering if it was possible to have deja vu for someone else. They just sat and listened to a whole lot of insanity as if they'd been waiting to hear it. They hardly reacted at all until Miranda said _Nodens_. Hollyann just about gave herself whiplash turning to stare at Dean; he stared back.

"What? What just happened?"

Dean told most of it; Hollyann looked mostly like she wanted to disappear into the floor. By the time he was done, Seth was having deja vu for himself. He also recognized the dream Miranda had described. It was the two of them after all.

Miranda looked like she was juggling too many chainsaws. "Okay. First, tell me what you say at the fires."

Dean repeated it. They all clearly heard Nodens twice. Miranda grabbed her phone, did some tapping, then told him to say it again slowly. She fiddled for a couple of minutes, then looked at Dean in an entirely new way. "Where did you learn to do this?"

"Some old guy when I was growing up. He told me if I did that, I'd get protected. I think maybe I was, sometimes. I just...do it now. It seems like it's wrong to stop."

"Like to know what you've been saying all these years?"

Dean looked shocked. "You know?"

"There are Latin translators all over the internet. Not that it helps much if you don't know it's Latin, I guess. Here: _In this circle is the fire kindled for the edification of Great Nodens. Descend to us here in this place, Great Nodens, that you may receive due veneration from we, your followers._

Dean absorbed that for a few seconds, then went right to the practical. "Should I stop?"

"I'm not sure, but my gut says no. Why did you bring her there that night? You hadn't before?"

"No. He said to. He said..." A sharp look of pain flashed in his eyes for an instant, then was gone, hidden away again. "He said I wasn't worthy of all that was possible, but I could have some of it."

Miranda finally turned to Hollyann, who was looking really alarmed for the first time. "You realize you might be pregnant?"

"She isn't," Dean said, so softly they barely heard him.

"Does anyone know where there's a 24-hour drug store around here?"

Miranda reached into a bag she'd left on the foot of the bed and handed Hollyann a pregnancy test.

_Whatever else we need_, Seth thought. _Holy crap._

Hollyann got up and went into the bathroom. Dean sat silent, eyes closed.

"You know, she'd probably feel better if she didn't have to wait for it alone." Miranda's voice was gentle.

Dean looked startled by the idea, but he nodded and went into the bathroom, not bothering with much more than a cursory knock as he opened the door.

"He really just doesn't _get_ stuff like that, does he?"

"No, I don't think he does much."

"That would make him interesting to raise a kid with, wouldn't it?"

They took a lot longer than either thought they needed. There wasn't any discussion of it needed; they waited.

When they finally came out, Hollyann just shook her head.

_They both look so disappointed_, Miranda thought. She wanted to just go over and hug them both, but she didn't imagine either of them would appreciate it.

Seth's head was reeling. _We didn't make the cut. Neither did they. Maybe it was supposed to be Roman._ He didn't think either of them would sit still for that, not now. And he was starting to wonder just how much of the past day was Roman's fault. "We have to talk to him again," he said softly to Miranda. She just nodded. But given how the night had gone for their very strange benefactor, they couldn't do much more than wait for him to get the message from somewhere else. Seth just gave in to accepting that he would somehow.


	31. Slow Me Down Baby, Drive for a While

They realized not long into Raw that they were going to need Hollyann out there with them tonight, injured or not, tensions or not.

"I don't think you're going to have to do anything but be intimidating. But she'll be out there, and we need you to keep her out of shit." Seth smiled. "Why not take the chance to have a chat with her about a title shot against the new champ?"

"So I'm going out there and intimidate the boss?"

"And enjoy every minute of it, if you're doing it right."

Hollyann smiled. It _could_ be fun at that. But as seemed to be her eternal curse, she wasn't dressed for the occasion. She looked down at her jeans and beat-up St. Paul Saints t-shirt with an internal shrug. At least the shirt was black.

"Oh yeah, I've got something for you." He handed her a brown paper bag. "We looked all over for a vest you wouldn't look like you're drowning in. No luck. If the sizes are wrong, chew Dean's ass about it."

She knew what would be in the bag before she opened it: Black pants and tank top, boots, one of the weird masks they'd come up with from heaven only knew where. She bounded off to the other side of the lockers and changed.

The pants were a little too loose; the shirt was a lot too tight. When she considered the effect all put together, she thought neither was a case of Dean's getting it wrong. She looked tough. She _felt_ tough. Hell, she felt _badass_.

"Do you have a hair tie?"

Hollyann walked back around the corner. Seth's jaw dropped. His thoughts were a variation of what he'd been hearing around since the Hall of Fame ceremony: _Dean, you lucky bastard._ "Leave it down. And don't wear the mask." He considered for a moment, then took it and tied it around her upper arm.

"Do I look scary?"

It wasn't the first word that rose to his mind. "Our wonderful boss-lady is sure gonna think so. Can you wrestle in long pants?"

"I'll need some that fit a little better so I don't get pantsed 30 seconds in, but yeah. I've done it before."

"Then meet your new ring gear." She wasn't going to look like any of the other divas, which was likely to work to her benefit, even if she was covered up a lot more than usual, which tended not to go over well with management. Given the whole effect, he thought maybe they wouldn't mind so much. She definitely looked like someone to be taken seriously.

Dean looked more like he thought she was someone who should just be taken, period. Seth smiled. _I don't think they'll be staying with us again tonight._

"Damn, woman, you look...yeah."

"Which is better than looking...nah?"

"A lot better." He slid his arms around her waist - getting a good sampling of her backside in the process - and pulled her up against him. "Shame we don't have time. I'm feeling all deprived."

"It's been two days."

"I _know_. I'm getting cold sweats and stuff."

Seth did his best to hide the snort that broke out of him, but they both heard it. Dean grinned at him. Hollyann gave him a _You see what I suffer through?_ look that she immediately softened by kissing Dean and wiggling free of his grasp.

The guys went out through the crowd; she waited until she was fairly sure everyone who was going to get involved was out there, then went out through the entryway. That put her behind Stephanie, which was exactly the idea of doing it. There were some hoots and whistles when she walked out; they amped up to a roar when she walked up and put an arm around Stephanie's shoulders with the biggest buddy-buddy smile she could paste on.

"You don't want to get up in this. It just sucks to break a nail, doesn't it?"

"What do you think you're doing? Get your hands off me!"

"I'm just making sure you don't play the 'I'm a girl and you can't hit me' card tonight. With all the hitting that's about to happen, there might be...an accident. We wouldn't want _that_."

Her heart still rose when Roman speared the living hell out of Triple H. She instantly had to go from buddy-buddy to a firm grip on her boss' arm. "Just hang out here with me. Air mail's about to arrive and you don't want to be in the way." She'd seen the glance that passed between Dean and Seth; a few seconds later, they were in flight. That made her heart triphammer even more; so did the huge and rather wolfish grin on Dean's face when he popped up near them.

"I don't suppose you'd give her a kiss? You know, just a little HLA to hold me until we get back to the hotel? No? Oh, well. We'd have to give you a flea dip anyway."

Hollyann stifled a smile. _One-track mind, straight through the gutter._

Stephanie was staring between them. "What the hell is _wrong_ with him, anyway?"

"Nothing I can't take care of."

She just stared a lot more and said nothing.

Miranda was a little surprised when Seth came back to the room alone. But just a little; she'd seen what went down, thanks to the miracles of modern technology. "They're not staying with us again?"

"Nah, Dean's getting cranky."

Miranda smiled. She couldn't seem to look at the two of them without two thoughts rising, one right after the other: _How the hell?_ and _What could it possibly be like with him?_ She thought both answers probably involved the word _weird_.

* * *

They got in the door. Barely. And he'd only suggested pulling over four times in 60 miles.

"Damn, you look good enough to eat dressed like this."

And didn't _that_ raise a few possibilities? "I'm glad you approve."

"Damn right. Did Seth watch you get dressed?"

"No, he did _not_. Perv."

"Not as much of one as I thought he was, then."

"You're in a mood, aren't you?" She was kind of getting into it herself; it was damned contagious. Playful didn't happen too often with him; for whatever reasons, he was feeling good tonight.

"In _the_ mood, more like."

"Oh, and _that's_ new." She smiled, suddenly having a moment of recall she was profoundly grateful for. "I owe you something, anyway."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm hmm." She went to her knees slowly, watching his wide-eyed, breath-caught reaction. "I was into doing this while you were in that suit, but I'll just have to improvise."

"You're down there to do comedy?"

"No, I'm down here to suck your cock. You okay with that, or would you rather I start telling jokes?" Just to make sure he could give her a fully-informed answer, she unzipped his pants.

"Can you do both at the same time? That might feel pretty good."

"A man walked into a bar." She took his cock out; it was already half hard and getting all the way there in a hurry. She gave it a few slow strokes. "He said 'OW!'."

"This is really good. And incredibly painful."

She smiled up at him, making sure he was watching, then bent and licked up the underside of his cock, swirling her tongue around the head. "A guy walks into a bar and orders a beer. There's a little man a foot tall sitting on his shoulder." She went back to licking, topside this time, ending it the same way. He was hard as stone now. "The bartender puts the beer down in front of him, and the little man jumps off his shoulder, opens his fly, pisses in the beer, then jumps back up on his shoulder." She sucked the head of his cock, thinking about hungry kittens. Dean groaned, his hips bucking hard. She pulled back before that resulted in anything. "The guy sighs, pushes the beer aside and orders another one. The exact same thing happens."

She went back to nursing at him, then took the first few inches into her mouth, pulling back immediately. "The guy orders half a dozen beers. Same thing every time: The little foot-tall guy jumps down, pisses in it, then jumps back up." She took him a little deeper this time, slowly, turning her eyes up to him. His were ablaze. "The bartender finally asks him what the hell's going on and where the foot-tall guy came from." She took him in again, one hand straying down to his balls and letting them rest in her palm.

"The poor guy says he was walking on a beach and found a bottle. He rubbed it, just for the hell of it. You know, like this." She demonstrated. Dean muttered her name in a choked voice and grabbed a handful of her hair. "Out popped a genie who granted him three wishes. He says for the first one, he wished that whenever he wanted a beer, there'd be an open bar within a block. POOF. Granted." She took him about halfway down. He groaned as the head hit the silky skin at the back of her mouth. "He says for the second wish, he asked to always have enough money in his pocket to pay for the beers. POOF. Granted." She swallowed him for the first time, all the way down. The hand in her hair tightened, but he didn't keep her there. "He orders another beer, and pulls the exact change for it out of his pocket. The little guy does it again."

She went to work on him in earnest, taking him down her throat and pulling back until just the head was in her mouth. Suck, lick, repeat. He was holding her at the bottom of each stroke now, both hands in her hair. When he started thrusting into her mouth, she pulled back so she could suck it as he gave it to her and withdrew each time. She pushed against his hips with her palms when she felt his cock swell against her tongue. He came, cursing and groaning. She swallowed every drop, then sat back on her heels, smiling and entirely pleased with herself.

Dean slumped back against the door; it was either that or fall over on her. It was a while before he could pull together words again. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"What the fuck was his third _wish_?"

She grinned. "He wished for a twelve-inch prick. And POOF, there he was."


	32. Don't Look Past My Shoulder

Hollyann lay curled in bed next to Dean, watching him sleep. It was the only time he was truly still, not constantly swaying and weaving like he was waiting for the world to throw a punch.

She missed Roman, there was no denying that. She missed how easy things had been between them, or had seemed to be, at least. _But I'd miss you a lot more_, she thought, smiling at the sleeping man beside her. _How did you DO that?_

For a long time, he wouldn't go to sleep until after she did. She was never sure why, or why he suddenly decided she was in the safe-to-sleep-around category, but she was now. Whatever she'd done, or whatever switch had flipped in his mind, she was to be trusted at least that much now. He'd stopped jerking into wakefulness every time she moved, too; that had taken longer still. She reached out and pushed a dark-blond wave out of his eyes. He stirred, smiled in his sleep, but didn't wake up.

She wanted a soda now that she was awake, but they'd split the last one hours ago. She'd seen a machine in the hallway, though. She fished around and found a couple of dollars and his shirt. It would do; the machine was only a couple of doors down.

She was pondering - her beloved Diet Coke and probably no sleep tonight, or something more sensible? - when she heard the last voice in the world she ever wanted to hear again. "And here you are, looking just like the little slut we both know you are."

She spun around to find Batista leaning on the wall across from her, smiling in the most unpleasant way she could have imagined. She tried to dart up the hall toward the room, but he stepped into her path. He took up enough of the hallway to block her escape. "Are you really spreading for that sleaze Ambrose now? And you turned _me_ down?"

She thought _turned down_ was a hell of way to describe her fighting being beaten unconscious and raped. She turned and bolted the other direction. When he grabbed her arm, damn near yanking it out of the socket, she did what she hadn't before, what wouldn't have helped then: She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Doors were being flung open, but she heard rather than saw them. She went flying, not sure what the hell was happening, and hit the wall hard. Little glowing specks filled her vision.

There were hands on her again. She thrashed against them, willing herself not to pass out, not now.

"Easy, now. You're all right."

She managed to sort out Sheamus' voice from the haze. He had one of her arms, and Emma had the other. They got her to her feet. She felt wobbly, but she managed to stay upright.

"Fucking hell, look at _this_." He sounded amused; she couldn't even begin to imagine why.

They got her turned around. Batista was down on the floor, and Dean, stark naked, was sitting on him and raining punches everywhere, so fast and from so many directions, it looked like he had half a dozen arms. About half of them were connecting. He was yelling something; she was able to pull _kill you_ and _fucking son of a bitch_ out of the howl.

There were a dozen or more people in the hallway now, all standing there watching, none looking like they had any plans to interfere. She could hear several women quietly cheering Dean on. That was all anyone did until several people on the floor who weren't with the company got brave enough to start peeking out.

Seth and Roman stepped up then and peeled Dean off. It wasn't easy. They started dragging him back toward the room, and Hollyann went after them. She wasn't very steady the first couple of steps, but the fog was starting to lift. She got to the door before it closed behind them.

Dean lunged for the door, but met her first. She just wrapped herself around him and hung on until he stopped trying to untangle her. She could see Seth and Roman over his shoulder, looking at them with very different expressions on their faces. It was a relief more than anything when Seth more or less dragged Roman out the door. She was wrapped around all she could deal with right now.

"I should have been there." Roman sounded angry; Seth wasn't really sure at what. The hallway was empty, as if nothing had ever happened. He kind of wondered who'd hauled Batista's sorry carcass off.

"No, you shouldn't have, not any more. Dean should have. And he was. _You_ sank that ship, man. Don't complain when there's no room in the lifeboat."

"I made a big mistake when I did that."

_Yeah, you sure did._ "It's up to them to decide if you get to make it right. Not to you." He thought the answer might be no, too. He thought about something Miranda had said a few days ago, after the four of them had spent a day together just goofing off in the city they were in on a day off: _They're really going to be something if they ever figure out they don't need anyone else to prop them up._ It seemed to him they were getting closer to that.

* * *

Hollyann wasn't entirely sure what to do. Anyone else in the world, she'd have held and soothed and cuddled until the shakes went away. A Dean loaded to the teeth with anger and adrenalin, maybe not so much. When she was sure he wasn't going to go back out the door looking for something to tear to pieces, she backed off and waited. He was going to have to show her what to do.

For a while, he paced the room, burning off all the energy he hadn't been able to spend. Finally, he spun to look at her, eyes ablaze. "No one's ever going to hurt you again. Never."

It was a promise, and they'd already had a talk about those, but this time she thought she'd let it slide. "You can't control the world, Dean. Besides, he didn't hurt me, not this time. You stopped him."

The last thing she expected him to do in response to that was lose it completely. But that was what he did. Things went flying around the room, so much so that she thought seriously about trying to get behind the bed. It had been a long time since she'd last been scared of him; she was now.

He stopped as suddenly as he'd started and just stood there like the power to him had been switched off. "I was going to do that to you. _I_ was."

_Speaking of the last time I was scared of him..._They never talked about that. "You didn't do it."

He shook his head, hair storming around his face. "I would have. But you don't hate me. Why don't you hate me? You fucking _should_. You should have cut my throat in my sleep a month and a half ago."

She went back to him, trying busily to ignore that he was still naked and she might as well be. She pressed up against him until he put his arms around her almost in spite of himself. "I can't hate you. There's not enough room." She kissed him, letting it linger until he answered it back.

"Room where?"

"Wherever it is in me I'm supposed to put hate. It's full up, nowhere to put it." She moved against him, letting her body do some of the distracting. Her mouth seemed to want to run ahead of her brain tonight. _This is the last stuff he wants to hear. Wrong time, definitely wrong guy. Stow it and give him what he does want._

It was starting to work, but he wasn't quite that easy to distract. "I'm not getting you."

"You're about to. I mean, you _are_ butt-naked." _Please just let my runaway mouth go and forget about it. Please, please..._

"Yeah, I am." He smiled and picked her up, tossing her onto the bed and following closely after her. It still freaked her out sometimes how strong he was. "He knows now. That son of a bitch _knows_ you're mine. Do you know it?"

"Dean..."

"Do you? _Answer_ me." His hands were all over her, grabbing, kneading, tugging his shirt off her.

She nodded.

"I said _answer_."

"Yes."

"_Only_ mine." He had her pinned to the bed now, his knee working in between her legs roughly.

_Oh God, it's Roman he means. He's jealous. And I think I'm in trouble._ "Only yours, baby." It wasn't just to soothe him; it was true, wasn't it? She'd tried to tell him in her way, and it had missed connecting. Now he was telling her in his way.

He got her legs pried apart as far as he wanted them, and pushed his knee up between them. "You say it. _Show_ it. Let me do what I want. Show me you're mine to do whatever I want with."

The idea of whatever he wanted was kind of terrifying, but she moved against his knee, riding it as he ground it against her. "Anything. Anything you want."

He fell on her, plunging in, laughing when he found her wet and ready for him. "Yeah, mine just like that. You love it, don't you, baby?"

"Yes, oh Dean, _yes_." What he was doing to her was far from gentle, but it wasn't brutal, either. And it felt so damn _good_.

"_All_ mine." What he did was the last thing she would ever expected: He clapped one hand over her mouth, then lashed out and sank his teeth into her shoulder. Hard. She screamed against his palm until her body sent out a flood of chemicals to ease the pain; they swirled together with the pleasure of the fucking she was taking. When she moaned in reaction to it, he stopped biting.

"I'm going to show you something you don't know about, darlin'." He was murmuring, almost crooning, in her ear. "You're gonna beg to follow me into hell after tonight. Just me. No one else." This time his teeth found the tender skin above her right breast. She howled, but she didn't dare fight him. And again her body reacted, mixing pain and pleasure until she couldn't tell them apart. He let go, still thrusting roughly into her. "You're never gonna want _anyone_ else."

She was vaguely aware he was biting places that wouldn't show under her clothes. Each time, endorphins and his cock driving into her pushed her a little closer to coming. When he bent and licked her nipple, she moaned and shuddered, terrified of how much it was going to hurt, but she didn't fight or ask him not to do it.

"You want it? You want me to hurt you that bad?"

She moaned again, arching under him. "Yours, all yours...do it, do what you want."

He caught her nipple between his teeth, holding it rather than biting. When his tongue flicked across it as he sucked it into his mouth, her body reacted to feeling the exact opposite of what it was braced for. Sobbing his name over and over, she came, wrapping her legs around his waist to hold him deep in her as he came in response to the sudden tightness and wetness.


	33. A One-way Ticket Going the Wrong Way

_Note: I know this isn't much of a chapter, but it's setting up something..._

* * *

All Hollyann could do was watch. Again. Watch, and let the horror creep in.

She knew that what they'd done earlier in the night was for her. They'd gotten Orton out of the way because they wanted Batista. She knew why. She'd been frustrated as hell by Batista's dodging Dean almost entirely. All she could do when Roman got his hands on the man was think _Well, he still cares, I guess_.

But by doing that, they'd bought this. 11 on 3. They'd fought like warriors, but what could they do? More than she could, surely, but there was no way they were going to come out of that whole unless they ran. She knew they wouldn't run. And now Evolution was out to pick up what was left.

She couldn't bear doing nothing any more, even if anything she did couldn't possibly help.

She'd gotten no more than a dozen steps toward the entrance when someone grabbed her arm. "Don't be an idiot. You can do nothing for them. Stay here."

"William, let me _go_. I can't just - "

"You can. And you will. Have you considered that the only comfort he has right now is your being out of harm's way? That's your boss out there. If they hurt you, who will they be in trouble with?"

When it was unbearable, she turned away from the monitor and found him there ready to shelter her. She just burrowed in, not caring right now about why he was there, or why he'd stopped being. Later. She could think about that later.

"It's time to get you out of here, love. Someone's going to wonder where you've gone off to before much longer. It should be away from here."

She went with him with no more argument; she felt numb, her mind, her whole body. She barely registered that he took her back to his hotel room. She just sat in a chair and gave in to the tears that had been trying to get out for the past half hour.

She didn't seem able to stop; after ten minutes, William was starting to worry. He was considering what he could possibly do for her when his phone beeped.

_Is she with you? Someone said you got her out of there._

_She is. Unharmed, but very upset._

_Thank you. Would you keep her there for a while? Another hour? It's team meeting time._

_Then she ought to be there, yes?_

_I think so, but I was outvoted. I think some of it's going to be about her._

_That doesn't sound promising._

_It maybe isn't. They think we're not doing anything but putting her at risk. Maybe they're right._

_She knew that coming in, I'm sure._

_Yeah. But we're not doing anything for her. And I'm the only one she's doing anything for._

He had a good idea who'd pointed that out. _I'll keep her here if you like. But I think it's a bloody awful idea._

When he glanced over at Hollyann, suddenly aware that the crying had stopped, he found her asleep. He thought it was probably for the best. She hardly stirred at all when he carried her over and put her on the bed. She was exhausted. He wondered, not for the first time, if letting her go for her sake and for Dean's might not have been the wrong choice.

* * *

She'd fallen asleep part of something. She woke up on her own again.

The logic was all there: She wasn't going to be getting any title shots as long as she was associated with them. She was constantly at risk of being harmed, because the protection of the rules didn't count for much when the boss was the problem. And those same rules meant she couldn't do anything concrete to help them, and they couldn't for her.

Logic wasn't what she wanted to hear, though. She wanted to not be shown the door yet again. But she'd been outvoted, and no one would even tell her how the vote went. Just to ice the cake, Dean clearly wasn't in the mood to talk about what that meant for anything else. Them, for example.

She'd decided she had no other choice but to assume she was entirely on her own now. That made what was next a pretty easy choice: She went into Stephanie's office to ask for her release absolutely certain it would be granted, and probably joyously.

It wasn't. She was simply told no, and that they would have something for her next week. Hollyann somehow didn't think it would be a title shot. It felt like she hadn't been home in ages. She spent the week there rather than wander aimlessly; she didn't even have a roommate for the hotels.

The agent who came up to her before Raw looked like he'd lost a coin flip for the job. He handed her the memo that was the sum of her new assignment. She read it and immediately started pondering the consequences of breach of contract. "Do they know?"

"Yeah. They looked happier than you do, if it's any consolation."

It wasn't, but what was there to do? She went off in search of her new associates.


	34. Ballerina, You Must Have Seen Her

"Here she is. Call off the search team."

Drew thought the poor girl looked like she was marching to her own execution. Not the most flattering response to her new assignment, but it had occurred to him that she might be at least a little scared. They'd been firmly in the opposite camp from her a week ago, after all. She didn't look scared so much as wan and tired, but she'd hardly want to show it, would she?

"Here I am. Do you guys know what I'm supposed to _do_? They didn't bother with the details." Her plan, such as it was, was to do as she was told until her contract ran out and she could get the fuck out of here without the threat of a lawsuit trailing after her. She didn't expect it to be an easy or pleasant year and a half.

The three men looked at one another, all wearing variations on the same stumped expression. "Nope," Heath said. "Guess we get to decide."

_Oh, rapture._ She wanted more men in control of her future about as much as she wanted to be gutshot. Not to mention men who were strangers to her, and at least in part responsible for her being in this position to start with. She was seeing pleather and bustieres in her future, too.

The sudden change in Drew's expression made her look above his head. She couldn't help it; she fully expected to see a lightbulb up there. "I need a guitar roadie. I never knew that until this moment, but I do."

The look Heath shot him was pure _Oh, that's what you need, is it? _"You don't have a guitar."

"Then the first job for my roadie will be to get me one, aye?"

Roadie was better than groupie, she supposed. It would spare her having to dress and act like a complete whore, and that was surely a bonus. Jeans, t-shirt, hair back, and she'd be ready to roll. "And after that?"

"Then you do what roadies do. Handle my equipment."

"Drew, what the _hell_?" Heath had a look on his face Hollyann was suddenly sure was there a lot.

"Ah, I should never have told him my middle name." Drew was smiling at her in a way that invited joining in. Demanded it, in fact. She lost the battle, put her face in her hands, and started giggling.

They _tried_. That was what stood out the most to her about the next couple of hours, what she'd never forget about it: They tried to make her feel comfortable about her new situation, even if she couldn't work up to being happy about it. And somewhere in it all she started thinking it could be worse. Maybe even a lot worse.

She decided she was going to have to do something to liven up her outfit - an I'M WITH THE BAND shirt, maybe - but the basic idea would be a go. And so was finally being able to _do_ something for someone when Drew and Jinder went up against the Usos. Being a pest was the first order of the day; since no one was sure what exactly she was doing out there, it gave them two sides of the ring neither Uso wanted to roll or be tossed out on - the one she was on, and the one Heath was on.

About four minutes in, she found her chance to do something else, too, and all by accident. As she moved along the edge of the ring, her foot hit something underneath that made a metallic clang. She pulled it out with her foot. It was a wrench, small but heavy. _Oh, all right, then._ She waited until Drew fell back against the ropes on her side.

"Right hand." She said it loud enough so he could hear, but no one else would. She could only hope he understood.

He did, without hesitation. He dropped his right hand to the second rope, and she put the wrench in it. He reacted instantly, turning his wrist so no one in the ring could see he was holding something, quickly assessing by touch what it was, then turning his head to give her a smile that made her knees feel a little fluttery.

When whichever Uso it was - she thought maybe Jey, but damned if she could tell them apart - finally broke free from the referee and charged over to either drag Drew off the ropes or knock him over them, Drew simply threw a haymaker. Maybe-Jey went down like he'd been shot; it looked like it would have cleaned his clock even without the wrench. She quickly shifted back behind Drew, and caught the wrench when he dropped it. The referee about two steps away, she hid it the best way she could think of on short notice: She dropped it in her bra. That, Heath saw. He was almost on the floor laughing as the ref counted the pin.

Drew was gloating. There was no other word for it, and he was waiting to pounce on Heath to do some more.

"Who says I don't need a roadie, then? She's getting a bloody amazing Christmas bonus this year."

"Right now, I really just want this wrench out of my bra. It's _cold_."

"I noticed."

She stood there with her mouth hanging open, waiting for words to fall out of it, as Heath and Jinder roared laughter.

"Get used to wearing that expression," Jinder said. "I think he likes it on you."

She thought maybe, just maybe, this was going to be okay. She had no illusions that she had any better chance of a title shot now than before; she thought it likely she wouldn't even see the inside of another match in the next 18 months. But at least she could do something that wasn't hiding backstage.

She did do something like hiding while they were showering - if standing in the hallway trying not to look like a moron counted as being like hiding.

"So that's what they did to you? Cutting you loose didn't help at all." Dean looked perturbed.

"No, it didn't. But at least I won't be sitting on my hands for the next year and a half. There's that."

"If McIntyre has his way, you'll be sitting on something else. I don't like how he smiles at you."

_I do. How about that?_ "Does that mean you're ready to talk about us?"

"Yeah. I thought backing off would help you, too. Like they'd see it was for real and lay off you. It isn't going to help, is it?"

"I'd be really surprised if it did. I'm going to eat my plateful either way."

"I don't _want_ to back off. I miss you."

"Oh? Which parts?"

"Don't." There was a snap in his voice suddenly, and his eyes had narrowed to burning gleams. "Don't act like that's how I've been treating you."

"No. No, you haven't. So, what's it going to be with us now? Sleeping with the enemy? Roman told me that first night that I couldn't live that way forever, trying to keep two lives in the air."

Heath stuck his head out to check on her just in time to catch the last half. He promptly went right back in.

"Looks like he'll let you. The pretty boy, maybe not."

She stifled a smile at that. "All he's done is be nice to me. Do you think maybe we could talk about this somewhere else?"

They talked until they were both aware they were going in circles. It all came down to the same half-handful of points: They missed each other. They wanted to be together. She wasn't at all sure she could pull off the high-wire act that was going to require now.

Dean didn't seem to think that was an issue at all. "You do what you have to. Help the hell out of them. Just not at my expense, right? Your work time belongs to them. I can't do anything about that. But the rest of it is still mine. _You're_ still mine."

She thought if Dean knew about this agreement, it was only fair to tell the band. She found Heath first.

He looked surprised at even hearing it. "Well, yeah. Your personal life is yours. We're not assholes."

She thought she'd gotten luckier on that one than she could possibly have known.


	35. Singing and Undoing the Laces

Life-juggling wasn't easy, but Hollyann did it. It wasn't made easier by how surreally different the parts of it were: Days spent being with Drew perpetually teasing her about something, Heath being rather sweetly protective, and Jinder being so unfailingly polite that she hardly knew what to do with it; and nights spent with Dean apparently trying to fuck his way completely through her.

There was also the other surreality: The more she got involved in 3MB's matches - on Drew's behalf whenever she could, being his roadie, after all - the more Dean wanted her submissive or outright helpless. She spent a lot of nights for the next couple of months handcuffed to a bed. He was jealous, she was sure of that, no matter how much she assured him there was no call to be. Drew got what Heath called "handsy" with her on camera, but he stopped the moment the red light went off. He'd even apologized to her for it, and more than once.

At home was neutral territory. Dean lived a long way away, and though all three of the boys in the band lived a lot closer, they seemed to have decided that was _her_ space. Most of the time, she really needed it.

Her birthday was one of the rare times she didn't want all that space, but she expected to have it anyway. She hadn't told anyone it was coming up, and no one gave any sign of knowing about it.

Not until the actual day, anyway.

Hollyann opened her door at what she could only consider an obscene hour of the morning to find Drew standing there. Holding a cupcake. With a candle stuck in it.

"Why did you not _tell_ us it's your birthday?" He looked miffed, but there was a smile lurking at the edges of it, she thought.

"It just kind of never came up. How did you find out?"

"I borrowed Cole's sources. I nearly didn't have time to pull together your surprise. Come along, we're going to Daytona."

"We are?"

"We are."

She waited until they were on the road to ask if she was going to get a hint.

"I nicked your iPod. One out of every ten songs on it is by Rush. So I concluded you're a fan. I'm brilliant that way. So I thought, what would a serious Rush fan love to do, short of marrying the drummer?"

"He's already married."

"So that's right out. And they're not on tour. But fortunately I'm brilliant. Did I mention that?"

"You might have."

"I found something almost as good. Better, given the drummer must be about 60, aye?"

He pulled in at a racetrack. She was officially entirely confused.

"All right, then, eyes closed until I say." Just to make sure, he walked behind her with his hands over them. That was exactly as awkward as she thought it would be. She could hear people laughing as they made their clumsy way wherever it was they were going.

"All right, then. Open up." He took his hands away.

She had to look at the car for a good 15 seconds before she figured it out; she'd never even seen one in person before. It was a Barchetta. A red one.

"Oh my God, Drew. How did you _ever_...?"

"You don't get to keep it, sorry to say. But you do get to drive it."

"Did I mention you're brilliant?"

"You might have." He laughed as she launched herself full-tilt at him. Catching her was worth every bit of the work.

So was watching her drive the hell out of that car. She took two turns around the track at reasonable speed. He was sure she was going to chicken out when the guy who owned the car said, "She's got the feel. _Now_ she'll open it up." She did. Even over the engine roar, Drew could hear her laughing every time she passed them.

She finally jumped out of the car half an hour later, glowing, hair a stormcloud, still laughing. There was no way to avoid thinking what she _looked_ like she'd been doing. Or that he'd like to see her that way without a car involved. He kept thinking about it through dinner, and through seeing her back to her apartment.

_I've been a good lad long enough._ When she turned to him after she got the door open, he pushed her gently against the doorframe and kissed her.

She wanted him to stop behaving himself; he could feel it in how she kissed him back, how she started moving restlessly against him. Then it was like a breaker cut out. She pushed against him, broke free of his arms, and backed into the apartment. But there was no slamming of the door in his face, there was that. He walked in after her and shut the door himself.

"Drew, I can't."

"Why? You don't seem to me like anything's...set with him."

"He doesn't really do that, I guess."

"What _does_ he do? What that leaves you having trouble walking three days after?"

The startled, wary look she gave him made him hurt.

"I'll not treat you that way. And it doesn't have to be anything you don't want it to be. Whatever this is with Ambrose is your concern. This is ours. Only ours."

It flashed across her mind that she'd been dealing with Dean being jealous for two months now for things she hadn't been doing. If she was going to be damned for it anyway, why not commit the sin? God knew there wasn't a thing about this man she didn't find desirable - not the least that she'd somehow run headlong into a genuine gentleman. It wasn't easy to keep from wondering how that would translate in bed.

She took two things: a deep breath, and two steps toward him.

He seemed determined to take it very slowly, and proved to be just as stubborn as a mule about having what he wanted once there was no doubt she wanted it, too. They stood there in her near-barren living room for nearly half an hour, kissing, touching, learning. She tried twice in that time to go to her knees; he pulled her up short both times.

"We can talk about that another time. It's _your_ birthday, aye?"

They were both half naked by the time they worked their way to her bedroom. The living room and hallway looked like an explosion in a laundromat. But all she wanted was to touch him, just use her hands, free of handcuffs, to _feel_. Drew seemed perfectly happy to sprawl across her bed and let her do as she pleased. He did provide a little guidance eventually, taking her hand and putting it where he wanted it.

_Oh my God, that's going to feel so good._ He didn't stop her when she went after the buttons on his jeans; he just made very happy sounds when her hands pressed against him as she unfastened each one, and lifted up so she could pull the whole complication of jeans and boxers off. He laughed and kicked off his shoes when they stymied her.

She tried once more, and he shook his head in an _Honestly, woman_ gesture and grabbed her, turning her under him too quickly for her to react. He could move eerily fast for someone his size. He peeled off her jeans and panties, a little less chaotically than she'd stripped him.

"Ah, you're lovely, lass. Do you know that? Oh, and happy birthday."

He moved down and slipped his hands under her, raising her to his mouth. She wasn't sure what was sexier - how much he obviously enjoyed it, or that he somehow kept talking all the way through. When he finally raised his head, he was grinning. And still holding her up. "I've always wondered if this really works."

It took her until E to realize he was writing the alphabet on her clit with the tip of his tongue, very slowly. M did her in. And R. And W. Especially W. Apparently there were eight or nine of those in the Scottish alphabet. When he lowered her hips back onto the bed, she was shaking so hard she couldn't make anything on her body work right.

She tensed when he moved up over her. _Now. Now is when he starts showing his true colors._

"Shh, love. I'll not hurt you."

He didn't. He was still in no hurry as he pushed himself into her, slowly and carefully, watching her face as she tensed again, then eased and dug her fingers into his shoulders as she opened to him.

She felt like she was floating, half in and half out of her body, riding waves of orgasms and words; he was still talking non-stop to her, singing bursts of songs and what she was almost certain were soccer chants. Those did interesting things to his rhythm.

She thought her neighbors must be ready to call the nut wagon right about the time he started singing something about deep-fried vodka. Or maybe a SWAT team when she started yelling. She was starting to wonder if this was actually going to kill her. _And if I could pick a way to die..._

She was so far out of touch with everything but her body ranting and celebrating that she didn't notice when he came - only when he stopped and rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him.

_Holy shit. Happy birthday to me_ was the last coherent thing her brain could come up with before it issued orders to go to sleep.


	36. Walking a Wire of Pain and Desire

It all started because of the web content guys. Again. One of them chased Hollyann down; by the time he got to her, 3MB had closed ranks around her. He asked her one of the goofy stoner-random questions they seemed to love. But it was her best chance to show she still had some life and a functioning personality in her; the odds of her ever speaking on TV again were slim indeed.

"What sentence have you said the most since joining up with 3MB?"

She considered and rejected "Sorry, letting you do that to me is against my religion," and "If you wouldn't shove it in there, I wouldn't gag on it," as probably not wise choices.

"There are two tied for first, actually. But they do both start with the same two words."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "'No, officer, I'm here with the bail,' and 'No, officer, I _didn't_ know Drew was going to do that in public'."

The other two fell out laughing while Drew gave her an absolutely hilarious _Oh, now REALLY_ look. She gave him an exaggerated _aw, poor baby_ hug, not aware that the camera clearly picked up the way his hand ran caressingly down her back. It took about two hours for the internet to go absolutely berserk, but she wasn't aware of that, either. After the thousandth puberty-addled comment about her "tittays" (almost universally declared too small and in need of surgical enhancement by horny 14-year-old anatomy experts) she'd made it her policy to avoid the internet unless she had no other option.

So she had no idea Dean saw it, either.

* * *

"Well, that does it. He's fucking her."

Normally, Seth would have tried to be the rational voice, but he couldn't be this time. If anything, he'd only make it worse. _That wasn't how you touch someone you're fucking. That's how you touch a lover. And she liked it. Where his dick is might be the least of your problems._ "What are you going to do about it if he is? Did you tell her you're back with Roman yet?"

"What does _that_ have to do with it?"

_Everything, you idiot._ "Just that you don't know for sure what's going on there. If they're putting on for the camera, or what. Find out before you lose your shit."

"Yeah. And when I _find out_ what I already know, she's going to learn about going behind my back."

"Dean, what are you going to do?"

"Teach her a lesson she shouldn't need. But it sure looks like she does."

* * *

"Then I'll see you Thursday?"

"All right. But I'm going to be clueless. I've never even been to a soccer game."

"That's good, because you're not _going_ to a soccer game."

She laughed. "All right, all right. _Football_. Then you call football..."

"American football."

"But of course. Australian rules?"

"Aussie football. Do you want to do that stuff you people call Canadian bacon next? You'll likely miss your plane if we start on _that_."

"I think I'm too scared to. See you Thursday."

"Kiss."

"Drew..."

"I want one. Want to give me one?"

She did. He made sure it was a good one. She was so bloody shy of anything that might look like they had something happening. He had to make the best of what he did get.

He was continually stunned that she'd decided to let him into her life while they were off the road. He was trying hard to balance seeing her as much as he'd like with giving her the space she still so clearly needed; he didn't think it would take much at all to frighten her off. He'd told her there wouldn't be anything she didn't want between them, and he'd meant it. But he was starting to believe she did want something more and was simply afraid to reach out for it.

Hollyann could feel the traces of the smile on her face as she walked away, knowing Drew was watching her. Things were so uncomplicated with him; she hardly knew what to do with that, but she wanted more of it all the time. It had taken her a while to identify the feeling: She was happy when she was around him. She tried not to think too much about why that had been so hard to figure out.

She was lost in thought as she walked, so it took her a while to even register the hand over her mouth, that there was something horrible-smelling in it, or that she was blacking out. By the time she thought to struggle or to call out for help, she was beyond being able to.

She knew the hands on her body from the moment her mind cleared. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"_Shut up._" The touch of his skin on hers told her she was naked. "You forgot. That's my fault, I guess. I should have been keeping you in line better. But you're still the one who needs to be punished, aren't you? You should have known you didn't have my permission to act like a little slut."

_Oh, shit._ She'd been trying to assess the situation while he was talking. She was on a bed, face down and shackled, that much she'd sorted out. And now she had new information, didn't she? He knew. She had no idea how, but he did. "Dean, it was - "

"I SAID _SHUT UP_."

She closed her mouth hard enough that her teeth clicked together.

"Good. Now, let's just get it all out where we can see it. You let him have it, didn't you? Just spread and let him at it like the little slut you are." He grabbed her hair and gave her head a single firm shake. "Thinking of smart-mouthing me? You don't want to. Just answer the question. You let him fuck you?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Lying would be bad for you. I saw you. All he had to do was touch you and you were hot for it all over again. You liked that cock in you, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"I liked it."

"How many times have you let him use your cunt?"

The word felt like a slap across the face. "Once. That was the only time."

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth."

"Prove it. If this was the only time, why did it happen? Why then and not any other time?"

She took a while to sort it out, but he didn't push her to hurry. "I...was confused. I've been. I still am. None of it makes any sense any more. I felt better for a while, while he..."

"While he was fucking you. So you got twisted up again. And you went to _him_ to get you right? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking he makes _sense_! It isn't all complicated and confusing. I know what he wants. I'm not going to wake up handcuffed to a fucking bed. Is that so hard to understand?"

He smacked her ass. Hard. She yelped and writhed. "Bastard! Don't you _ever_ hit me!"

"You like it. I can _smell_ you. Complicated gets you pretty fucking wet, doesn't it?" The next slap landed between her legs. He didn't hit as hard, but it hurt a lot more. She groaned and tried to twist away, to close her legs, anything.

"Dean." The voice was gentle, firm, and instantly recognizable to her. Roman.

"She's all right. She's high as fuck on it."

She shivered as Roman pushed two fingers into her to the second knuckle. "Yeah. All right." His thumb was stroking her, soothing the sting of the slap. "She likes it."

"No..."

"Stop that now, babygirl. You like it a little rough, we all know that." His fingers were busy now, doing things deep in her. She struggled, but it only made him work her harder. "Did you miss me?"

"She must have." Dean sounded oddly amused. "Just look at what she let get at her. Mile tall, yard of hair, bad temper...yeah, she missed you."

"You know you did, don't you, baby? We're gonna make that all better tonight."

"You call this _better_?"

Dean's fingers tapped against her lips. "Ah, no. First thing is that _mouth_ of yours. The right way is 'Thank you for my punishment, sir.'."

She froze. Roman laughed, a low, animal rumble that made her ache. "Damn, she clamped down on my fingers like hell when you said that. You want to make up for being a little slut, don't you?"

"You're both crazy."

"That's 'You're both crazy, _sir_.'. Do it, or I'm gonna make you scream it."

"Please don't, s...sir."

"Little liar. I can feel how much you want it." Roman pulled his fingers out of her, laughing softly at her low, wavering moan. "Oh, I missed you, too, babygirl. Both of you. But Dean and I already had our reunion, didn't we? You want it first?"

"You've been without longer. You go. Just remember what a bad girl she's been."

She thought a punishment fuck from Roman could turn out to be a real and very painful punishment. And she was right. The shock of it was the first assault; he'd always been gentle with her, always seemed to prefer it that way. He'd reduced her to pleading with him to use lube within ten seconds; she was dry, and it hurt. She tried to stay as still as she could - moving made it about a thousand times worse - and to not let them hear she was crying. _Let it end, just let it end. They have to let me go eventually._

Roman came fast and hard. He didn't have to linger over it for her sake, and there was plenty of time. She wasn't going anywhere, and he could fuck her as many times as he wanted. He laughed as he pulled out of her. "She's not too into it, man. But I guess that's the idea, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Dean walked over and ran his hand down her back. It took a few seconds for her body memory to make the connection. At least she knew how he'd figured it out now. He reached up and turned her head sharply to the left so he could see her face. "It's too late to cry over it, slut. That shit's boring anyway. Stop it." He pulled his hand back and slapped her hard enough that she heard Roman murmur a mild protest. "Say you're sorry. Say you regret what you did."

It was like another slap. One that cleared her head. She was supposed to regret being with a man who would never do this to her, who it wouldn't even _occur_ to do this? "I _don't_."

"You're going to."

If there was a mercy in this, she thought, it was that Roman hadn't bothered with a condom. Cum was terrible lube, but it was better than none.

She wasn't ready at all for Dean to slam his cock up her ass. He wasn't bothering with lube, either. She shrieked and tried to pull herself up the bed, away from him. There was nowhere to go.

"Fucking gag her. Stick something in her mouth or over it, I don't care. She's going to have everybody in the place banging on the door."

Pain had knocked most of the breath out of her, but she managed to get her point across: Anything that went in her mouth, she was going to bite off. Roman stripped a case off a pillow and tied it over her mouth, shoving a mouthful of it between her teeth. It was all she could do to breathe.

It went on. After the third or fourth time they'd both been at her, that was all she really knew: Pain, and time slowing to a crawl. Dean pulled the gag out of her mouth while he was dry-fucking her ass yet again, and she pulled air into her aching lungs in huge, whooping gasps. "Say you're sorry. Beg us to forgive you. And you'd better sound like you mean it, slut."

"No."

And still it went on. It some point it hit her like another slap: _They think I want this. They think I LIKE it._ And not so long ago, they might even have been right. But not now, not any more. The woman who would have been coming her brains out for the second or third cock rammed in her was long gone.

No, she realized. That's wrong. She's still here. _I'm_ not. I'm somewhere they can't touch me. Let them have her. She asked for this, not me.

Her mother used to call it "Hollyann's windy place" - the place she could go in her head when the lectures got too monotonous, when the boredom got too heavy to bear any more, when she needed to be away from everything and couldn't run. She hadn't needed it for years, but it was still there, waiting. She went.

She came back. She didn't know when, and she barely knew where. Dean and Roman were gone, and she was unshackled. There was no way to move that didn't hurt. She moved anyway.

Part of her brain was screaming at her to get out of there, but the louder part was howling for a shower, the hottest one she could make the faucet produce. At this point it didn't feel like it mattered much if they came back for more. Given that they'd probably gone on until they couldn't any more, she didn't think they would soon.

Even when she felt almost clean again, she couldn't seem to work up the will to leave. That little voice had changed its tune all of a sudden; now it wanted to know if there was something even worse waiting out there. What then? Better to stay here, even if the devil she knew had turned out to be one she hadn't really known at all.

When the door smashed back against the wall behind it, she just looked up from the chair she was huddled in and waited for round two to start.


	37. Guess I'll See You Dancin' in the Ruins

Miranda heard the screaming. She knew Seth did, too, but other than a couple of _What the fuck_ looks toward the wall that separated their room from Dean and Roman's, he said and did nothing.

She bit her tongue and waited. But when she heard the door over there slam, and right after the sound of choked sobs, she couldn't take it any more. "Seth?"

"Baby, you know things were always...kind of weird with them. Maybe something just, I don't know, got out of hand. It's not our business."

For ten seconds all she could do was stare at him. "How can you say that? Don't you _hear_ her?"

"We've heard her scream before. Cry, too. And the next day, she's all cuddly with Dean again. Leave it alone, Miranda. At least wait and see how she is tomorrow."

She supposed she did as he said. It was after midnight when he fell asleep, and she waited until she was sure of it before she got up and went to the door.

She knocked for five minutes, and she could hear Hollyann in there, but she wouldn't come to the door. Miranda was about to give up and accept that Seth might be right about the whole thing when she finally got an answer. It froze her blood.

"Go away, please go away. No more, no more please, please stop."

_Out of hand, Seth? That's all?_ She had no idea what to do. She couldn't tell if Hollyann was telling her to go away, or didn't realize no one was hurting her any more.

Even after she realized she only had one real option, it took her a while to work up the nerve. She'd never done anything outright in defiance of what the group wanted. But she was about to.

Her hand was shaking when she knocked on the next door on her list. The man who answered it wasn't the one she was hoping for.

"Well, holy fuck, look at this. What do you want?"

"Drew."

"Yeah, that figures." Heath leaned back into the room. "Hey, it's for you. You gonna have _all_ their women before you're done?"

It saved time that Drew seemed a lot less clueless. He absorbed that she was there at all, and the look on her face, in a couple of seconds. "What's happened?"

"Would...would you just come with me? I know it's a lot to ask."

"Aye, it is. And if it's a trap, lass, they may take me out, but I'll wreck the first one that gets to me. The second too, if I'm having a good night. Now, you still want me to go with you?"

"Yes. Please hurry."

Heath peered at her around the larger man filling the doorway. "I'm goin', too."

"I told you, it's not your fight if it's come to that; I don't expect it."

"Fuck that. Let's go."

She thought she might have to reassess Heath a little, after all. There was no hesitation in it, none at all. She'd already figured out why Hollyann had gone in for naked tangles with Drew - good lord - but she was starting to grasp why she apparently also just liked the whole bunch of them. Especially when Heath was on his phone as soon as they were on the move, and Jinder was waiting for them when they got out of the elevator.

Drew might not have been acting like the leader of the group day to day, but he was pretty obviously the decisive one of the bunch. Miranda had explained that Hollyann wouldn't open the door; when she didn't respond the first time he called out to her, he simply took two steps back and kicked the door in.

Drew was pretty sure he'd never had "the horrors" in his life. Not until he saw Hollyann naked, soaking wet, curled into the smallest possible ball in a chair, rocking back and forth and staring at him with eyes he could see the whites all the way around. His first clear thought was _Oh God, who the fuck DID this?_ His second was to step in front of the others so they wouldn't see. "I think you'd better all wait out here."

He was most of the way across the room to her before he realized she wasn't really seeing him, those enormous eyes notwithstanding. _She's in shock. Far, far in._

"Hollyann? Sweetheart? Come back to me now, aye?"

Her eyes cleared slowly, the starey, beaten look leaving them. _Because she sees me now._ His heart wanted to race for a few moments. _She's not afraid now that I'm here._ He went the rest of the way to her and dropped to his knees beside the chair, folding her against him.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

_Damn it, I should have said, not asked._ He wouldn't make that mistake again. "You have to get out of here. Come with me now."

"He'll find me. He always does."

"Ambrose?"

She nodded.

"Then you'll have to go someplace he can't. We can talk about that later. We've got to go, sweetheart."

He gathered her clothes, relieved to see her putting them on herself. He'd seen well enough how she looked. Ambrose would answer for it. For the moment, though, the priority was getting her out of here.

Dressing had used up the last of her burst of energy, though. She took about a step and a half, and her legs buckled under her. He caught her and swung her up into his arms. "I always did want a try at a career in public transport."

Impossibly, she smiled at him. She still was when he shouldered his way out the door to where the others were waiting.

_It's that easy for him_, Miranda thought. _Hurt as she is, look at her. Dean, you lose. You lost even before you did this._

"Mind an extra roommate for tonight?"

Heath was looking at Hollyann, mouth tense and twitching. "Not even a little bit."

They took her back to their room; it wasn't exactly hiding her, but it was all they had for the moment. Drew put her in bed, and she promptly fell asleep. It didn't really look all that different from how she was awake.

They went out into the hallway and sat propped against the door.

"Bastard," Heath said softly. "Fucking bastard."

"Bastards. Reigns, too. She said. I'm going to tear both their fucking heads off, Heath. I hope you've no great problem with it."

"Only if I don't get to help. What if this isn't the first time, man?"

"I've not seen marks on her as she's got now."

"Which is to say you've seen enough of her to be sure?"

"The only way I'd have missed them is if they were between her toes."

"Fine then, I'll ask. Punch me if you feel like you've gotta. Why the _fuck_ did you let her go back to him?"

"She wasn't ready to leave him. And I had no idea of this. If I had..." He shook his head, then put his face in his hands and took a slow, deep breath before he looked up again. "She's got to be ready now, nothing else for it. I'll not be...what's the clever word? An enabler, aye? Not any longer. If she wants to be with me, he's got to be out of her life now. No more. Not that she's likely to want to be with _anyone_ for some time."

"Be a little patient and I think she will be, man. I saw how she was smiling at you. In the middle of all _that_."

"I've been patient. I can be again."

Heath thought he proved that right from the get-go. He was ready to end up with Drew bunking in with him if Hollyann freaked out about having a bedmate. She didn't. She didn't wake when he got in with her, and Heath woke in the morning to find them - both still fully dressed - tangled up in each other and out like lights yet. He slipped out of the room to go find something to do. Breakfast could wait a while.


	38. Just Waitin' for the Guide to Show

It was the quiet but persistent knocking at the door that woke Drew. Hollyann murmured, arms tightening around him as he started to get up, but she didn't really wake.

"Someone's at the door, lass. Let me up."

She did, murmuring a sleepy "Look first."

He'd planned on it. He was expecting Heath, who was gone. Probably forgot his keycard again.

When he looked out the peephole, all he could do was gape for a few seconds. _What the actual fuck could HE want here?_ "Uhm...wrong room, aye?"

"No. Open the door."

Curiosity won out over caution; he thought half the problems in his life could be boiled down to that. He opened the door and stood aside to let Undertaker in.

"How is she?"

Drew just shook his head. He really didn't have any idea at the moment. "You know her?"

"In a sense."

Drew thought Hollyann looked thoroughly startled to see the man, but somehow not exactly surprised. That was fine; he was surprised enough for both of them.

Taker sat on Heath's bed, looking at Hollyann solemnly. "I should have known he'd get worse about being rejected as time passed, not better. I was careless, and you paid for it. I'm sorry."

Never mind. _Now_ he was surprised.

"How much do you know?"

"As much as Seth and Miranda do. I think. What they told me, anyway."

"And...?" Taker shot a glance Drew's direction.

"Not a word. I didn't think...all that mattered. Not with us." _And I don't want it to. Go away. Leave us alone._

He seemed to hear what was unspoken as clearly as what was. "You have very few choices about what matters. Those Outside choose as they will."

"What in _hell_ are you two haivering about?"

_And here we go again._ Sometimes the whole thing just made him infinitely tired.

He watched the same thing happen as had in what felt like a thousand of these explanations: McIntyre listened calmly, if with a clear look of skepticism. He reacted not at all to the name of Nodens, but he did look startled at a version that ran closer to home for him. "That means something to you?"

"Not personally, you understand. Nuada...something from school, maybe? I wasn't always paying strict attention."

"Part of your country's shared mythology with Ireland."

Drew made a mental note to ask Sheamus about it; he knew an enormous amount about things like that. "And what would a thing like that want of us?"

"A number of things. Try asking when you get there." He handed Drew a pair of thick airline-ticket folders.

"Not that I'd complain over a trip home, but we're just going to go skipping off?"

"It's been arranged. If you don't have answers in two months, you won't be getting them there."

"Wait, what? Where?"

Drew smiled at her. "If you've an umbrella, be sure it's in your suitcase."

"We just...go?"

"You just go."

"And I'm not given time to do things that need doing here first."

The look on Drew's face was perfectly mild and neutral...as long as he ignored the eyes. "I think you'll have your chance when you get back."

He left them shortly after. They had things to discuss, and he had things to think about. What Nodens might do with them now that he was sending them much closer to home, he couldn't guess. Maybe there had already been an attempt at something similar; Sheamus and Hollyann had crossed that up by not connecting. Was Nodens trying again? It was certainly possible. He smiled; the most reliable sign he was right would be McIntyre returning with a pregnant and newly-surnamed Hollyann in tow. The way they looked at each other, it wasn't at all out of the realm of possibility.

* * *

Seth was awake when Miranda got back. She'd already decided he was going to have to ask; she wasn't going to volunteer that she'd gone behind his back.

"Is she all right?"

"You care?"

"Jesus, Miranda, of _course_ I do. It's just...were you sure? Absolutely _sure_ what was going on there? You should have told me if you were, 'cause I sure the fuck wasn't."

She sighed. All this stress. She knew Seth better than that, didn't she? She went over and let herself get snuggled in. "I'm sorry, baby. No, I didn't know for sure."

"But you were right, weren't you? Dean snapped and did something horrible to her. Roman too, I guess. It sure sounded like he was in there."

She nodded. "I didn't see a lot of what Hollyann looked like; Drew was in there and that was it, nobody saw anything. He had to carry her out, though, and I saw some bruises."

"How was _he_ there?"

"I went and got him. And don't you dare start. Who else?"

He nodded. "Yeah. So, he got her away."

"Yes. I think he means to _keep_ her away, too."

"Good. If Dean doesn't realize how fucked up and wrong that is - and shit, if Roman isn't stopping him any more - she doesn't need to be anywhere near him." He was starting to wonder how near Miranda ought to be to either of them, for that matter. He wouldn't ever have thought they could hurt her, but he wouldn't have thought they'd hurt Hollyann, either. He tightened his arms around Miranda. He didn't want her to not be on the road with him, he hated that idea, but if it had all come to this...

Later. That was to think about later. Right now she was acting like she was in the mood to apologize, and he was, too...even if he wasn't exactly sure what he was doing it for. It didn't matter. Getting this right did. He thought they were probably going to need each other more in the next few months than they ever had before.

* * *

Drew looked at Hollyann, who'd been lost in thought since Taker had left. "Are you coming with me, then?"

"Oh? I have a choice?"

"What? Of course you do, lass. You always do with me."

"And what will you do if I say no?"

"Stay here. I'll not leave you to fend for yourself."

She smiled. "You really would, wouldn't you? Where the hell did someone like you ever _come_ from?"

"I'll be showing you in a few days, aye?" But not for long. He had an idea that being unfindable for a bit would be a good thing, and he had just the place in mind. And if that meant he had her nearly to himself for a time? That was good, too, so far as he could tell. The strength of her was astounding to him, but there was no way she wouldn't need some time to pull herself back together and decide where to stand to face the world from. He had a few recommended spots in mind.

"I want you to do something for me, Drew. Not that you haven't done a million already."

"Name it."

_You're about to regret saying that._ "Leave Dean alone. Roman, too. If they come around making trouble, I won't have a word to say about what you do. But don't start any."

"Lass..."

"Listen to me, please. Dean didn't do this intentionally. Neither did Roman, really; he was probably just following Dean's lead. It's too bad for me he picked _that_ to be his first time doing it."

"You're going to sit here and tell me this was a _mistake_? What? He tripped and just happened to land on you and rape you?"

"He didn't know it was the wrong thing to do. I know how crazy that sounds, but six months ago it _wouldn't_ have been wrong. I'd have _wanted_ it like that, Drew. I need to know you understand that. He thought he was doing the right thing for me, for us, because he didn't know the rules had changed. He should have stopped, but he doesn't really get that kind of thing. I knew that about him; I knew it all along."

"And that's changed? It's done? Because I can't, lass. I can't do a thing like that."

She looked at him, bemused. "You really don't know, do you? You showed me I don't have to live like that any more. You're what _changed_ it. The last thing I'd ever want is for you to change it back."

"Good, then." He ran his hand over her hair; that was close to the only place on her that wasn't bruised. "Do you know what you're asking of me to cry off?"

"Please. I don't want them in our life any more. I mean...well..." She blushed furiously. _Great. Mouth like a runaway train._

"You're not saying anything I've not thought myself, lass. We'll find our way. To my family first of all. They're eager to meet you." _There. Be nervous about that instead._ "Maybe then we can see where _you_ could possibly have come from."

"That's going to be the longest 19 seconds of your life."


	39. The Faces She Keeps in Her Heart & Mind

_This isn't over after all. There's no way around it: Dean needs Hollyann, and she needs him (heavens help her...). But they have a hell of a lot of work to do first. A little something to get us started:_

* * *

_I can see me bound and gagged_  
_Dragged behind the clownmobile_  
_You can treat me like a dog_  
_If you make me feel what others feel_

Why couldn't she have something easy, something good, something that made her happy?

_Because it never works. I don't deserve those things, that's all._

Drew had been gentle about it, more than anyone else had been, but it only took a month out of the two they'd been given for them both to know: It wasn't going to happen for them, not buckling down and getting serious about it. There just wasn't quite enough seriousness in him, not for what was swirling around them.

Hollyann still didn't understand exactly what that was, but she thought it didn't matter now, not as long as she was alone. Not as long as no one wanted her.

She'd spent most of the long, long flight back thinking about what to do now. The obvious stuff - die, go home, go home and then die - none of it was the answer. There were two things she needed: An excuse for her walking away from 3MB that the front office would buy, and somewhere she could just go away to the quiet place for as long as she could.

By the time the plane landed in New York, she had the answer to both problems. She collected her suitcases, did a quick schedule search, and bought another ticket. Two hours later, one last plane whisked her toward her solution.

* * *

Hollyann knocked on the hotel room door. When the man she was looking for opened it, something in her shrieked at her to run away while she still could. She shut it up; she was so far beyond that now.

_What do you do when no one wants you and you can't deal with the world any more? You join a cult._

"Poor lamb. I've been waiting. Come inside now." Bray reached out and ran a fingertip through the tears streaming down her face, then put the finger to his own lips to taste them. He didn't think she was at all aware of them. She shuddered and cringed away from his touch, but she followed him into the room.

"I knew you'd find your way home eventually. Home to the family. And to me."

Harper and Rowan were there, watching her. Harper took two steps forward, then stopped halfway through the third stride, waiting to be told what to do.

"As you can see, my first son has taken quite a shine to you. Would you like it if I gave you to him?"

She shrugged; he thought it looked more like a convulsion. "I don't care. As long as he lets me go away."

"Oh, I don't think he'll mind if you aren't entirely present. Go on, Luke. Reveal her to us in her full truth."

Harper looked at her, head tilted like a cat's on being faced with something entirely new. She just stood there tears still pouring down, but not crying, not making the sounds. He reached out and with a gentleness she couldn't ever have imagined him having, wiped her cheeks with his thumb, trying to dry them. She didn't flinch when he reached for the buttons on her blouse; she didn't even look.

She didn't help or hinder; when he unfastened her jeans and they fell away, she just stood with them tangled around her feet. He pushed her panties down to join them, then lifted her out of the snarl of cloth, setting her back on her feet next to the pile of her clothes.

"Do you want her, Luke? She'll do whatever you want. Won't you, lamb?"

Hollyann nodded. He could do what _he_ wanted, anyway. She doubted he'd know or care that there was a difference. Harper looked like he was trying to inhale her with his eyes.

"A riot for the flesh, my son. My gift to you. Intercourse. Fellatio. Sodomy. Acts you've only committed in dreams that have no names. Take her."

"No."

Wyatt looked taken aback. "No? You want her."

Harper nodded, then leaned down and kissed her forehead, barely a brush of lips on skin.

"Ah. Yes, she could be. She would be a worthy vessel for Abigail to return to us. And it would provide her the freedom she's come to us seeking. And you'd put aside your desires for that?"

Harper nodded again.

"Then I'll leave her in your care until the time comes." Bray nodded to Rowan, who followed him out of the room.

She just stood there, tears still falling. He didn't know what to _do_ with that. She should be scared. She should at least be cold.

"Why don't you just do it? I won't give you any trouble. You won't have to smack me around or anything. Unless that's what you want."

"No."

"What _do_ you want, then?"

"For you to stop crying."

She reached up absently and swiped at her face. "Oh. That. Does it bother you?"

"Yes."

"I'll look away. Or you can do it from behind and not have to see at all. Just get it over with, please? I'm tired."

He walked over to one of the beds and yanked the blanket and sheet down, then stood back and pointed. "Sleep now."

"I didn't think I looked _that_ bad." What the hell, maybe he liked to sneak-attack it. She got in the bed; he pulled the covers up over her.

"You don't understand. You will. Sleep. I'll be here." He went over and sat in a chair across the room. He watched fixedly until her breathing slowed and deepened. It was a long time after that before she stopped crying.


	40. It Was Through These Eyes of Mine

_All you have to do is ask_  
_I'll be happy to say yes_  
_I'll put on the creepy mask_  
_If you'll grant me some forgetfulness_

"We'll know soon if she's acceptable. And because you've done such a good job of keeping an eye on her, I'll ask if a well-fucked vessel is still an acceptable one." Bray smiled at Harper in a way he would have sworn was an attempt at looking magnanimous.

"What happens to her?"

"She'll have the oblivion she wants so much. Have you found out why?"

"She doesn't say much. Do you want me to?"

"If you can. It might be useful to the process."

That word made his innards crawl. _She's not a process, she's a woman._ But this had been his idea, right? And she wasn't fighting it. If anything, Bray was right, as he always was: She welcomed it. She'd come back to the compound with them without hesitation. Also without appearing to give a damn much.

She really wasn't saying much; she still mostly dialed out of everything. She still cried, too, though she tried not to do it in front of him. When he got back to his room, he'd almost surely find her red-eyed and blank again.

He did. There was no sense of recognition in her eyes when she looked at him, but she turned to face the window. He didn't think she was seeing a damn thing out of it.

"Why do you want it all to end?"

"Why do you?"

He sat in the chair where he spent most of his time with her. "Who says that's what I want?"

"You're here, aren't you? It's what _he_ wants, so it's what all of you want. Isn't that how it works?"

"You shouldn't be afraid of him. He wants you to love him like we do."

"Yeah, well maybe not _exactly_ how you do, right? But it isn't going to matter if I do or not pretty soon, is it? I won't be here to love him or not love him any more."

"Or me."

"If you thought that was going to happen...Nothing personal, cultist dude, but no. You don't have to say stuff like that if you want to fuck me. Pretty words. You keep those."

"My name's Luke. Not 'cultist dude'."

"All right, _Luke_. You do what you want. Just don't lie to me about why you're doing it."

"I can't. Not until Abigail tells Bray if she wants to merge with you." He wanted to touch her, to get some kind of response from her, but he didn't. "Do you understand? _Really_ understand what's going to happen to you?"

"I won't be here any more, and she will. Everyone will have what they want. I understand. I don't know if I exactly _believe_ it, but I get it." She turned to look at him, something other than corpselight or grief in her eyes for the first time; he thought it was curiosity. "Will she let you fuck her? Have this?" The gesture she made toward her body spoke without words: _This heap of useless flesh?_

"No. She's for Bray only."

"Poor you. It's better that way, though."

"Why?"

"Because I want _quiet_." She'd started rocking, distress creeping into her voice. He was sure she didn't know. "Quiet, that's all, and you won't leave me alone. Can't you please? Please?"

He got up and left, sure she didn't even know he was gone.

* * *

"Abigail rejected her. She's unclean. Why do they all have to be such _sluts_?"

_She's not a slut. She's NOT._ "Does it mean I don't get to keep her?"

"I'll bring her in if you want her. You've been a good son, and asked nothing of me until now. You'll have to teach her to behave as a woman should, you understand that? I won't allow even a single transgression."

"There won't be any." She'd have to want to do _something_ before she'd do anything wrong, wouldn't she?

He went back to her wondering what he was going to say, and how. She would be unhappy, desperately so, he thought.

She laughed. It wasn't happy laughter; it didn't take a genius to know that.

"Well, and if _that_ isn't the definition of fucking useless. Not even fit to be snuffed out like a cheap candle. Hey, no big thing. I can still do it myself. I guess I don't get to take the coward's way out is all."

She was halfway across the room before he realized she was trying to leave; she did so little that had anything that looked like motivation, it left him flat-footed for a few seconds. He caught her.

It was like watching a week of all she hadn't done, said, or let herself feel detonate at once; all of a sudden he had a tornado by the wrist. A tornado that screamed, and cursed like a sailor, and howled at him to let her go. He crushed her up against him and waited. She couldn't go on like this for long.

She did for longer than he thought. The screaming and cursing stopped first, then the struggling. After that, she just stood there and sobbed like a child who'd finally had too much to bear.

She was saying something, muffled against his chest so he couldn't make out the words. He relaxed his grasp on her enough so he could.

"Help me, Luke. Please help me. I can't any more, I can't. Make it _stop_."

_That's it. She broke. If I bring her to Bray now, he'll finish it. She'll stay. She'll be ours. She'll love him and we can take care of her._

But he didn't want her to love Bray. He didn't want _us_, or _we_, or _ours_.

"I'll help. It's going to stop. I promise." He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. A while standing under warm water would calm her down some.

_I need it way worse than she does._ He winced at the thought. He could at least be clean for her. What had it been? Three days? Four? He got the shower going, then stood back and looked at her. "You gonna get in there, or do I have to put you?"

"You want to?"

_Fuck, yeah, and get in there with you, too. All wet and slippery against me..._ "Don't answer me with a question when I ask you something."

She shook her head. "I'll do it."

She was in there long enough that he was starting to wonder if he should check on her. He was sitting up to do it when he heard the water turn off. She was still alive in there, anyway.

She came out in a towel. Not much of one, either. She lay beside him, then without comment let the towel fall open. Her eyes were closed, mouth set in a thin line. She was aware enough now for it to be rape beyond doubt.

_Aw, shit. I should have when she didn't care. She could get used to me. I know she could._

He pulled the towel back around her the best he could. "I'll be back in a few minutes. You're not going to do anything dumb, are you?"

"No. Why?"

It was a good question.

He thought she was asleep when he got back, wearing a not-much-of-a-towel of his own. She'd wrapped herself back up, at least. When he settled next to her, though, she opened her eyes and went after his towel. He caught her hand and put it down beside her.

"You don't want to?"

"You don't."

"If you want me to get you off, I will. Rumor is, I'm a nice tight fuck. Or would you rather something else? I've been told I do some other things pretty well, too."

She sounded like she was reading stuff off a menu. Which was pretty much what she was doing. No matter how good it probably really was, that dead tone wasn't enticing at all. "Go to sleep."

"Wow. I must really be slipping. Fine."

She didn't right away. The towel felt kind of stupid and wasn't comfortable, so she got rid of it, then lay watching Harper apparently peacefully asleep beside her. _No kidding I'm slipping. I know you want to fuck me, so what the hell are you up to? Some kind of cult mind game?_ She didn't think so somehow; he certainly wasn't much of anything she would have expected. She didn't think he'd be anywhere near scary if he shaved, either. She reached out and brushed a fingertip over the threads of white in his beard.

"Thought you were sleeping."

She swallowed her heart, which had tried heroically to climb up her throat and escape when he spoke. "I thought you were, too. How old are you?"

He smiled wryly and reached up to touch his beard where she had. At least she sounded interested in something. "I ought to pull these, or cut them or something. Keep anyone else from getting all curious. I'm older than you for sure. A lot older, probably."

"Luke, what are you _doing_ here? You're...really not what I was expecting."

"Bray's right. The world is a fucked up place."

"He's far from being the only person to say that."

"Yeah, but he's the only one I ever saw who can _do_ something about it. Those Outside do his bidding. He'll bring them, and they'll cleanse this world. It's what they've been waiting to do."

She had real doubts that anyone controlled those things, whatever they were. But starting a debate on that wasn't going to accomplish much. "And if their idea of cleansing is to wipe all of us right off the face of the planet?"

"You think the planet will miss us much?"

"No, but we might miss _it_ a little."

He laughed. It was a more pleasant sound than she would have guessed. "Go to sleep. It'll still be here in the morning."


	41. Underneath the Chilly Gray November Sky

_And this loneliness, unbearable_  
_And it all goes by so slow_  
_I will stand in line for the sacrifice,_  
_For the shamefaced love of the ugly vice_  
_I will pay the price to see how far you'll go_  
_Let me be your prisoner, let me be your hostage-o_

Luke ate all his meals in the compound at the communal table; he was expected to be there, to be seen by the others, to represent Bray when _he_ wasn't there.

Hollyann reacted with a kind of bleak horror to the others, especially to the women. That didn't really surprise him; they looked and acted like she had at her worst. But they did it all the time. It was...kind of unfortunate that one of the first things she saw was one of the women blankly put down what she was doing, lift her dress, and bend over a table when Rowan ordered her to. Rank had its privileges, and Erick enjoyed them to the fullest.

Hollyann had said nothing about it for a couple of hours after. He knew she would at least wait until they were alone; she wasn't dumb. But it took her a while even then.

"Is that why you just leave me alone? You get it taken care of?"

"No. I leave you alone because I don't want you to do it like that." He didn't really want to talk to her about getting it taken care of. He had a few times since she got here. He had to do _something_ about it.

"You did it to Dean. You did all _kinds_ of stuff to him, didn't you?"

He wasn't expecting her to take _that_ line of attack. "Yeah, but he wanted us to."

"What?"

"Yeah. I mean really wanted it. Bray wanted him, to be one of us, I mean, besides that. Bray threatened Regal to get him to come to us, but I don't think he really had to. Ambrose, he _wanted_ to be hurt." He hadn't been sure until right now if he should tell her; Bray would probably say no, but he thought she should know everything before she made any more decisions. "Bray was threatening the wrong person, anyway."

"No, William was the right one. He probably still would be."

Harper shook his head. "No. When they don't want to, when they fight? They always call out for someone sooner or later. The person they love most in the world. Not like for help, more like...that's the last thing they have to hang on to, to keep them from just giving in. Ambrose was calling _your_ name. All night. When he wasn't laughing in Bray's face in between. Why did you think we brought him back to _you_?"

"Yeah, well, he has a pretty fucked up idea of love, then." Not that that was exactly a revelation.

"Nah. How to _show_ it, maybe. Probably."

That needed thinking about, a lot of it. But not right now.

"Whose name did you call?"

"No one's. Eager and willing, remember?"

Yeah, she remembered. Pretty much all the time. It was worth not forgetting.

* * *

"You still want to keep her?"

Luke nodded. A very simple answer seemed like a good idea.

"Then we'll have to do something about it. She...disturbs the others. The women in particular. She shouldn't be here and still not be one of us. And she surely shouldn't be yours and so...uncontained."

Luke had been dreading this; he didn't know how he felt about that. He shouldn't be dreading Bray teaching Hollyann to love him, should he? She'd be away from him a couple of days, no more than that. And she'd come back to him -

_Dead. Ready to be a hole for me just like them. And for anyone else who tells her to._

"There's something we need to do first. This week, if you think it's the right time."

"Oh?"

"She's worried about getting in trouble for jumping off the clown wagon. The office put her there. If she gets trouble, we will, too. If we bring her out with us..."

"Then they'll assume breaching her contract was the last thing on her mind. Yes, that should work. And you'd like them to see her in your hands, too? McIntyre isn't back yet, you know."

"He's not who I want to see it."

He wasn't surprised when Bray dug through a drawer and handed him two capsules. "No bright ideas from her. You make sure she takes them."

He recognized the red capsules, and he knew what they meant: Hollyann's night wasn't going to be over after her family debut.

He took a long walk before he went back to her. She still wanted this, even though she seemed to have come back to herself a little in the past couple of weeks. He'd told her what would happen, exactly how Bray would teach her to love him. She didn't seem to care. Luke was starting to think that being dragged out of her daze was making her feel things she didn't want to feel; she was close to welcoming oblivion again. He had more sympathy for that than she realized, but that didn't change one thing: He didn't want her to end up that way. He wanted her alive, willing, not just standing next to him like breathing meat.

He wished it wasn't the last way he might see her.

He gave her one of the capsules. She took it without even asking what it was, or why. There was time for the second one if she needed it, but it might be good if she wasn't totally out of it. And if this didn't go the way he was hoping, she'd need all of the second dose she could get.

It hit her like a freight train. Twenty minutes, and she was almost out. He was glad he hadn't given her the second one; there was something he had to do yet, and she had to be awake for it.

He pulled her down onto the bed with him, held her body tight to his. A kiss, just one; at least he could have that. Then he could do what he had to do. Her lips were so soft against his, so warm. Eager. He wished he could believe it wasn't the drug.

"Whose name will you call? Tell me. Who?"

She pressed her lips to his ear; the touch of her breath made him ache. He wasn't really surprised at what he heard; it was going to be one of two, wasn't it? All right, then; he knew what to do.

* * *

_Oh, isn't this just fucking great? And we're outnumbered._ Heath sighed and moved toward the last place he saw Jinder before the lights went out.

The lights came back on.

Wyatt was out there, flanked by Harper and Rowan. But all of a sudden, they weren't what Heath was looking at. Hollyann was standing in front of Harper, looking back at Heath like she had not the slightest idea who he was. Harper was stroking her hair. _Petting_ her.

_What the holy, howling actual fuck is THIS shit?_ Mostly, Heath was just grateful Drew wasn't back yet, even if that meant a three-on-two end of the evening for him and Jinder.

But they didn't come any closer to the ring. It was like they were waiting for the two of them to leave. Heath was inclined to oblige them. They couldn't do anything for Hollyann, not the two of them alone. And the way she looked, he thought it might be too late anyway.

They cut a wide path around the Wyatts on their way out, but Heath tried. He had to. "Hollyann? Hey, sugar?"

Harper glared at him. "Keep walking, little man." Hollyann didn't seem to even have heard him.

When they got to the ring, Bray took a mic and started introducing the newest member of the family to the crowd. The faces Luke could see mostly looked stunned. He only half-heard what Bray was saying. He was waiting to hear something else. If it didn't come, he was going to need a backup plan he didn't have yet.

_Sierra Hotel India - _

They came out from three different sides of the arena, and they came fast. Luke took Hollyann to the free side - not the ramp side, the obvious escape, Luke noticed - and lifted her out of the ring. He had to more or less shove her until she got the idea and bent down to crawl under. He pushed her back as far as he could.

"Stay here until someone comes for you." He stared into her eyes until he was sure she was really hearing him. "Whoever it is." All right, he'd lied. Once more. He kissed her, knowing he didn't have much time now. "Goodbye, little angel."

Recognition washed over her face, a moment of comprehension. "No..."

Ambrose hit him at a dead run before he was halfway to his feet. It was like being hit by a ranting hurricane with fists. He didn't put up all the fight he could have. There wasn't much left in him just now.

Dean had caught Harper not looking, so it was mostly a three-on-two fight. And kicking Wyatt in the head a few times? That felt really good. It was going to feel even better to get Hollyann out from under the ring and take her the fuck out of here.

That wasn't going to be as easily done as thought. She was terrified, which wasn't exactly a shock. He kept talking to her, trying to move slowly enough toward her in a flatbelly crawl that it wouldn't spook her any worse.

When he finally got a hand on her arm, she started screaming. Shrieking, more like. Talking to her wasn't helping any more; it was maybe making things even worse. And there wasn't room under here to maneuver very much.

"Dean? What the _hell_?"

Seth. And with fantastic timing. "When I say, grab my feet and pull me out of here." He grabbed her other arm; she really wasn't going to enjoy this. "Go."

Roman ended up having to help; Hollyann was digging in as hard as she could, wrapping her legs around anything she could find, and trying to bite his hands. He could deal with all that. Hearing her scream for Harper was what was fucking with him.

He finally pulled her free of the last thing she could grab, but she never stopped trying to wrench free of his hands, even after they got her out of there. Roman finally swept her up and carried her to the back. He took a couple of kicks with something behind them along the way, too.

_Oh fuck, what did you bastards do to her?_ He knew what they were capable of, didn't he?


	42. Another War, Another Wasteland

_You can sprain me, you can blame me_  
_If you make me lose control_  
_I will be your prisoner, I will be your hostage-o_  
_I will be your prisoner, I will be your hostage-o_

Hollyann stopped fighting once they got her out back. _She knows they're not coming for her now_, Dean thought. She went slack in Roman's arms, and stood silent, head down, when he put her on her feet.

"Come on, darlin', it's over. You're safe now."

She looked at him, eyes huge and despairing. She started laughing. It just went on and on, like she couldn't stop.

Miranda finally stepped forward and took her arm. She'd insisted on coming along tonight, something she never did. Seth thought he knew why now. He tried doors until he found an office unlocked. Miranda took Hollyann inside and closed it behind them. And locked it.

Dean had kept a leash on it; it couldn't have been easy for him. The leash was off now. He kept throwing things until there was nothing left to throw.

"She's _scared_ of me. Those freaks, they...and she's scared of _me_."

"Dean, she's fucking high as a kite. We probably all look like, I don't know, giant cannibal trolls or something to her."

"Then why isn't she screaming now? Miranda doesn't?"

"I don't _know_. We don't even know what they gave her."

"You heard her."

Seth had. He still felt a little sick. It was the last thing she'd said - screamed - before she gave up: _Oh God, Luke, please don't give me back to them._

* * *

"I know it isn't much comfort, but this is the bottom. It's all up from here." Miranda hoped she didn't sound as hopelessly smarmy as she suspected she did. _Maybe I can tell her to Bo-lieve, too._

"The bottom? You know what that is? When a fuck-and-dump doesn't even bother with the fucking part any more. That's pretty much _under_ the bottom, isn't it?"

"He didn't?"

"No. I thought he wanted to, but I guess I was wrong. I guess that's why Wyatt left me with him."

"_None_ of them did?"

"No."

"Oh, thank God."

"Yeah. I'm all right now. We can go get started."

"With what?"

"They'll punish me again. I was bad, I left."

_Oh, my God._ "You can stay with Seth and me tonight, all right? You _do_ know you've been drugged? You can't make decisions this way."

"You want to help me? Really?"

"Yes."

"Then help me out that window. Let me go back to him."

"You know I'm not going to do that."

"Then just give me back to them now and don't worry about it. I'd rather get it over with than wait and wonder."

"You _do_ have other options, you know. You can go home."

For a moment, there was a gleam of life in her eyes. A conniving gleam. She was too stoned out of her gourd to hide that very well.

_The second we let her out of our sight, she'll go back to them. God, they work fast._ "You stay with us tonight, and we'll talk about all this tomorrow, when you're feeling a little more clear-headed."

Hollyann nodded. She didn't care much either way. Tonight, tomorrow, next week. She'd get back to Luke eventually, if only to ask why he'd done this cruel thing to her.

* * *

Bray knew. Luke had no doubt about that. And he'd pay for doing this; he had no doubt about that, either.

What he also didn't have now was the comfort of having done the right thing.

She'd said it was Ambrose. She'd told him, and he'd believed it. He knew she'd be...distressed at being cast out, but it was back into the arms of someone who would take care of her, the man she loved more than anyone.

But he'd seen the terror in her eyes. And when it was at its worst, it was _his_ name she'd called out, him she'd pleaded to for help, for rescue. And he'd given her over to them. He hadn't wanted to, but what else could he do?

"Luke."

_It's time, then. I deserve whatever he does to me. Even if he thinks it's for different reasons._ "Yes, Bray?"

"Come walk with me."

He was going to do it out of the sight of the others, then. Maybe. He followed Bray out of the house and toward the woods.

"You walk here often. I see you, especially when you're struggling with a decision. I saw you this afternoon. Your decision was wrong, Luke."

"I disobeyed you."

"And I know why. Did you truly think I'd harm her?"

"You said she had to love you."

"And she does, to be with us."

"I don't want her to be like _them_, Bray." He nodded toward the sideyard of the house, where one of the women was sucking off one of the men, her eyes blank, her motions mechanical.

"She doesn't have to be, Luke. You love me. Are you like that?"

"No."

"Very few are. You've never questioned that before. Then again, you've never really made use of them as others do. Do you know how I knew you'd chosen your bride, Luke? You _started_ making use of them. Because you weren't using her." He smiled at the look in Harper's eyes. "Yes, I know that too. You chose her. And you defended her in the way you thought best. But it was wrong, and none of this would be happening if you hadn't lost faith."

"I know. I was wrong, and I accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

"I've considered that carefully. Your punishment will be that if you wish to take her back from them, you must do it alone, without the family's help."

"And after that?"

"And after that I will bind your bride to you, and _you_ will teach her to love me and to walk among us. And perhaps be the first to bring children into the family. I thought it might be you - who better than my First Son?"

Luke hung his head in shame. Bray understood. He always did. How could he have thought otherwise?

* * *

"Everyone else decides. Who's best for me. What's best for me. When I get kicked to the curb. And you're all wrong, you're always _wrong_. I decide from now on. I want to go back."

_That's how they work_, Miranda thought. _Six perfectly true statements, and then they twist it into whatever they did to her._

"They have you convinced you do, sweetie. I know what they do, remember? You go back there, and someone's going to find you in a ditch one day."

"No. But they will if I stay here. You tried to help. I don't blame you. But I'm not going back to that."

Seth sat beside her. "I don't think you'd _be_ going back to that. You tore Dean up when you left. Not that I blame you for going, but there's no way he hasn't been thinking about what he did."

"I've been thinking about it, too, Seth. A lot. I'm not who I was when being treated the way he treated me was good enough. But he is. He doesn't change."

That was surely true. Dean would stay Dean, no matter what. Not even being loved would change that.

"You guys have tried so hard to help. I love you for it. But it's time to let me do this on my own."

"Not _there_," Miranda groaned. "Not with them."

Hollyann looked up at them; for a moment, the calm clarity of her gaze stunned them both to silence. "What happened to you there isn't what happened to me. Luke...cares about me. I don't know how or why, but he does. Don't you two realize what happened last night?"

A replay was easy enough to find online. Seth watched it four times, trying to find where he was wrong, where what he was seeing wasn't what really happened, but he couldn't. Harper had done exactly what she'd said: He'd given her back to them. And God, she hadn't wanted to come.

Miranda saw it, too. "If he cares so much, why did he force you back here?"

"He didn't know I didn't want to, not until it was too late. I think he was worried about what Bray would do to me."

"Sounds like a good thing to worry about. You're not?"

"A little, I guess. But I can take what he dishes out. If there's something worth it."

_And a fur-bearing lunatic cultist is worth it?_ There was nothing sane about this, nothing. Then why did she sound so calm, so rational?

"Are you going to make me go where I don't want to? Hold me here?"

"No, of course not."

"Then let me go my way. And don't worry."


	43. Walk the Wire, Walk the Fire

_Fly away on them old wings, black as they may be  
Believin' what you leave behind is burnt-up junk debris  
And every last undying soul resides at a hotel in Saint Marie  
Fly away on them old wings, black as they may be_

* * *

"You did _what_? _Fuck_! What's wrong with you?"

Seth knew Dean wasn't going to take it well; he'd asked Miranda to go down to the café in the hotel's lobby while they had this chat, but she'd refused, insisting that it was her choice, too, so she should face up to it with him. Now he was really wishing _he'd_ insisted.

"We let her go. What the fuck else were we going to do, Dean? She's an adult."

"An adult high on something and brain-fucked by a cult. How could you fucking _do_ that?"

"Three days," Miranda said softly. "She wasn't high any more and she sounded perfectly rational. Except about you and Roman. Terror does make people pretty irrational."

Dean lunged for her, but he only took one stride before his brain kicked him good and hard and he stood his ground. Seth was still in between them in a heartbeat's time. "If you ever put your hands on her, I'll destroy your life, Dean."

"What do you think you just _did_?" He spun and walked out of the room before it got any worse. Fuck it; he had things to do.

It took him almost two weeks to track down where the Wyatts had gone to ground again. All he did in that time was imagine the worst. And he had the memories to make a pretty gruesome worst out of. When he found them, he took a leave of absence and got behind the wheel. He didn't have much of a plan, but he did do one thing: He called ahead to a place he remembered as maybe the only truly peaceful one he'd ever seen. There was a house to rent. He took it for six months. Theirs or hers - that was her call.

Quick and quiet was the way to do this, but he didn't think either was going to be possible. He had no idea what the place was like, or even how big it was. And no matter how much he didn't want to think about it, he had to: She wasn't going to come with him willingly.

The house was huge and crumbling. _Just like the last place. No breaks, I guess._ All he could do was search room to room. And hope to fuck they hadn't moved her somewhere else.

* * *

"Wake up. They caught an intruder."

Hollyann was just awake enough to hear how angry Luke sounded. And just asleep enough to wonder what an intruder had to do with her.

It all came perfectly clear when Luke steered her into the attic, the one room in the house she absolutely avoided. Dean was on his knees in the middle of the floor; there were four men holding him there, and having trouble doing it, even though they'd obviously beaten him badly already. _How long have they had him up here?_ He went perfectly still when he saw her.

"Good. We're all here now." Bray actually smiled at her. Her stomach clenched. "Dean knows we don't appreciate uninvited guests. So I thought maybe someone _did_ invite him, and simply forgot to mention it to me?"

There was no right answer, and she knew it. She shook her head.

"I think I'll let you choose his punishment. You're the offended party, aren't you? The one he was going to kidnap and take away to molest at his leisure?"

All Hollyann could do was shake her head again. _Don't make me do this._

"So many possibilities. He's frightened you. You can't think clearly. I'll make it easy for you. You have two options: You can watch him take what he meant to do to you. Or he can watch it done to you. I'm sure he'll find either one...painful."

Dean found enough strength to start thrashing again. He was howling; if there were words in it, she couldn't make out any of them.

"Please, Bray, let him go. I can convince him not to come back, I swear I can."

"I'm sure you can. But we can convince him to not _want_ to come back. And that's so much better. Choose."

"I _can't_. How can you expect me to do that?"

"Because if you don't choose one punishment for him, he'll suffer both. And so will you, won't you? Do you see, Luke? Do you see that she doesn't want him punished?"

He didn't answer, but his grip on her arms tightened.

"You'll let him go after? You swear?"

"Yes, dear, I promise. Killing him would be inconvenient to us."

"All right. Do it to me. Whatever you want. I won't fight you."

"What I want? You still don't understand, do you? We'll _all_ have our turns. You must have serviced all three of them; five of us will hardly be a burden to you. Or _do_ you understand?" His eyes flickered over her shoulder. "Do you see what I'm sparing you? I love you too much to see you saddled with such a slut, to see you suffer through watching her give it to every one of your brothers, two and three at once."

"Save yourself all the trouble. You already got me down here. I'll stay down. You try it with her, and I'll kill every one of you I can before you get me." Dean's eyes were flat with what she thought must look like indifference to most people. She knew it for what it was: Cold rage.

"Well, isn't this sweet? I think I'll let you be the hero, since you're still so determined to be. We all enjoyed you so much the last time you tried that." Bray smiled at the confusion on Hollyann's face. "Why do you think we left him on your doorstep that night, dear? It was where he wanted to be. Where he pleaded to be as the night wore on. Take your clothes off, Dean. Sooner begun, sooner done. And you _are_ going to get done. And done. And done again."

Maybe he wasn't going to fight, but she sure as hell was. It didn't do much good. Luke forced her to her knees. "I would never hurt you, little angel. I'm going to hurt _him_. And you're going to watch."

"He's yours first, my son. After all, you're an injured party too, aren't you?" Bray came around behind her and took two fistfuls of her hair. "Don't look away, little sister. And don't close your eyes. If you do, it all starts again tomorrow night. And every night until you watch every moment, every thrust. You might even like it. He did last time."

Luke exchanged a look with him. "Yes, use it. He doesn't deserve it, but you'd injure him too badly for the rest of us to have our turns."

It was somehow the final horror that there was a huge bottle of lube in a wall cabinet - and that Luke didn't have to hunt for it. _And I thought I was SAFE here?_

Dean didn't fight, as he'd agreed, but if Bray thought that was the same as liking it, he was dead wrong. He made almost no sound, either - a grunt at each new assault, a low groan of pain when one of them did something especially brutal. Other than that, he simply endured it, eyes closed, mouth set.

Bray stood there, holding her still and watching. Dean wasn't moving at all, surely passed out. It was a mercy, but it didn't stop them; hitting him wasn't fun any more but he didn't have to be awake to be raped.

She didn't know how long it went on; it felt like days, and was surely hours. She'd managed not to cry - she didn't want them to see her do it - until Dean opened his eyes, found her, and seemed to sink into a kind of peace. That finished her, and she didn't give a damn for pride or defiance any more.

Bray's hands in her hair were still holding her head immobile, still forcing her to watch, but she could feel his fingers working now, almost massaging. It might have been soothing in any other time and place, and by anyone else's hands.

"Mmm, I think it's my turn next. He's too degraded to bite now. He really is very beautiful in pain; I understand your fascination." He pulled her back against him. He was hard, grinding it into her back. "Unless you'd like to spare him and give me my turn yourself..."

"Just...please don't hurt him any more. Do it. Do it to me instead."

She'd been sure Dean was unconscious, and had been for a long time. But the moment she said it, his eyes flew open. "No! _No!_ What's wrong, Bray? Not even enough of a man to take me down like this? You have to blackmail it out of a _girl_?"

"Dean, stop. _Please_."

"Quiet. Don't you promise him _anything_. Jesus, baby, can't you see he _lies_?"

Bray smiled. "I think we've been going about this the wrong way, my children. We should have been making _him_ watch. Tomorrow, I think. After all, dear, you didn't choose. You made _me_ do that." He yanked on her hair, turning her head sharply. "I'll save myself for you. Your savior looks like he might be in a biting mood after all. You see? I can be merciful. Baby." He kissed her. Dean cursed furiously. She managed not to scream, but it was a close thing for a few seconds.

They left the two of them there. Hollyann started flinging open what few cabinets there were the moment the door shut. She didn't really expect to find anything, and her expectations were completely met.

Dean tried to stand, probably with helping her search in mind. He hit the floor again with a thud that made her teeth grind. The floor was it; there was nowhere for him to rest even a little. She sat down next to him and lifted his upper torso into her lap. Impossibly, he smiled up at her. "Is _that_ all it takes to get close to you again? I could have done that a month ago."

"Don't." She pushed his hair out of his eyes, gently ran her fingers through it. Never mind what was caked in it. "Why?"

"Don't you know?"

"I...could have taken it easier. It would have hurt me less."

"It would have hurt me more." He took her hand and put it on his stomach; it was about the only thing on him other than his hair that didn't hurt. Much. "We've gotta get out of here. Tonight. Now."

"How?" Her search had quickly verified what she'd expected to see: There was one window, and it was heavily boarded over.

"Set the fucking place on fire if we can figure out how to do it."

She wasn't sure if he finally fell asleep or passed out. She did the only thing she could think of to do: Sat there and stroked his hair and waited.


	44. As We Fell into the Sun

_I alone love you  
I alone tempt you  
I alone love you  
Fear is not the end of this_

* * *

They both jolted awake when the door opened. In their half-asleep confusion, they did what instinct roared at them to do: Dean sat up, wincing at how much it hurt, and put himself in front of Hollyann as much as he could. She flung her arms around him, covering him with as much of her body as she was able to from behind.

_There's warrior in her_, Luke thought. _We could have been so good. If she could ever have been mine._ "Get him on his feet. Hurry."

"Leave him _alone_. Haven't you done enough?"

"Yes. All I'm going to do. Get moving."

They really had no choice. It was a relief that it didn't take them long to figure that out. "Get dressed."

She had to help him, but they got it done.

"Follow me. _Be quiet_."

Hollyann was sure he was taking them to another room where there would be fresh and eager bodies waiting for more festivities. She was sure right up until he brought them to Dean's car and shoved the keys in her hand, and Dean in the back seat. "Go. Somewhere no one would think to look for either of you. Stay away for a while."

She went around to the driver's side door, but she didn't get in. She couldn't, not yet. "Luke..."

"_Go_. And if you ever think he doesn't love you, remember this."

"I'll remember it if I ever think _you_ didn't."

"Maybe somewhere else, we've got three kids. And a dog." He reached out and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. "Not here. Drive. As far as you can."

The road kept blurring on her for the first 20 miles or so, but she drove. She had no idea where she was going, but maybe that was a good thing, for now at least. They'd have to come up with something eventually.

It was another hour before Dean roused himself enough to rasp, "Pull over. In the dash."

It looked like an explosion in a junk factory in there, but she found it: Directions to somewhere in North Carolina she'd never heard of. It was 12 hours away, but at least she was going roughly in the right direction, if she ever found the interstate. She didn't think she had 12 hours in her, but she was going to get them just as far up the road as she could.

It took an hour to find the interstate, and another half hour at a huge 24-hour truck stop to stock up on food, water, a gigantic thermal cup of coffee for her, and a couple of first aid kits for Dean; she found her purse on the floor on the passenger side. Once she got the concept of water across to Dean, he slammed down two bottles without taking a breath, then collapsed and fell back asleep. They were going to have yet another problem if they'd hurt him beyond what the first aid kits could deal with.

Seven hours was all she had in the tank; her eyes were starting to insist they were on a 16-lane road. She stopped at the first motel that looked like it might at least take a swipe at being clean. She got a room and got back in the car before Dean knew they'd stopped.

"Where?"

"Georgia someplace. I can't go any more."

She had to half-carry him into the room. She thought he'd just collapse on one of the beds and get back to sleeping it off, but he headed for the shower instead. She was sympathetic. She locked every lock the door had to offer and sat on one of the beds, staring at the wall. She was too tired to even think about turning on the TV.

He came back naked; she doubted he wanted to put his clothes back on after he was finally clean. She'd have to find somewhere to get him some in the morning. He half-sat and half-collapsed on the bed next to her. It looked like it hurt. She did what she could with the first aid kits; the most visible thing was bruises, a lot of them. There wasn't much to be done for those. She put what was left of the supplies on the pile with her purse and all the food and water that was left. "Do you think you could eat? I can go get something. There's a Wendy's sign lit up across the road."

"Don't go anywhere."

She rummaged through the food she'd bought; she was starving, at least. She'd tried for the least offensive stuff she could find, but the sandwiches still looked like they were all skin-graft-and-cheese. She decided to brave what solemnly swore it was a club. It looked like it had been made with one. She handed him a reasonably non-terrifying salami sandwich.

He inhaled it.

"Disgusting?"

"Completely. Got another one?"

He tackled that one a little more slowly, and with three more bottles of water. She found it a little disconcerting to eat with him sitting three feet away buck naked. It was impossible not to look. _And I had to give him salami, too, didn't I?_ She didn't know what to think of herself when she had to choke back a laugh.

He saw. "Come on, it's not like this is the first time. I think you just like feeding me bare-assed."

"How do you do this?" She couldn't look at him all of a sudden. "All I wanted was to die. For like a month after he did it. Just die."

"It was just beating me up more, baby, that's all. They just used something besides their fists. Which I'm happy they didn't think of."

_Yup. You are NOT sane._

"Did you feel like that? After?"

_Oh, God. Had to open your mouth, didn't you?_ "I don't really want to talk about that now."

"I do. I know how lame it sounds, but I'm so fucking sorry. I listened to Roman. And I'm not dumping it on him, either; I knew I shouldn't have, but I still did."

"What do you mean?"

"He's never really understood...things. He said I really needed to push you, way further than I ever did before, or you'd never leave McIntyre, and he'd help. And I thought yeah, he was right. He wasn't."

"I don't blame you for that. I never did. You didn't know I was...feeling different about that. But you didn't _stop_, Dean. When you had to know I didn't want it, you kept on going. _That_ isn't Roman's fault."

"No, it's not. It's mine. We never had a signal, a safe word, nothing like that. We should have, right from the start."

"I didn't think I'd ever need that with you. Would it have helped?"

"Any other time, yes. Then...baby, I don't know. Nothing ever hurt me like you did. _Ever_. I always knew I was playing way out of my league with you. McIntyre wasn't. The two of you looked fucking beautiful together, and it killed me."

"There's no leagues. Not to me."

"I know. You don't do stuff that way. I guess I do. I didn't know it until I saw you with him, but I do. So, did I fuck up so it can't be fixed, or what?"

"I don't know. Maybe you didn't mean to, but...I don't know if I can trust you any more Dean. I can depend on you to take the worst abuse I can imagine for my sake, but I can't trust you not to hurt me when you're angry. That's...really fucked up."

"Do I at least get a chance to earn your trust back?"

"I'm sitting here next to you having nakey time. I guess you're getting your chance now."

"I've got some clothes in the car. I'll go get them."

She let him get to the door. She couldn't help herself. "Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"You're going to get your clothes."

"Yeah."

"Why do you need clothes, again?"

"Because I'm - ah, yeah. One of those laughing boys must have clocked me harder than I thought." He tossed her the keys.

He didn't bother with more than boxers. She still felt a lot less like she'd landed on Planet Penis.

"So now that Dean Junior isn't waving hello at you any more, are you still gonna sleep over there?"

"I was planning on it."

"I wasn't. I'm not feeling up to getting in your panties right now. I'd...just like it if you were over here with me."

She got in next to him, feeling cat-jumpy. He pulled her up against him - and that _had_ to hurt - and promptly went back to sleep.

She was still awake when he moved away from her. She ignored the little ache that started in her chest and got up. He was never going to be cuddly, that was all. Getting close in bed was for getting laid.

She thought about trying to find somewhere open, then tried the motel office. The clerk sold her a pack of cigarettes for twice the price, then magnanimously threw in a pack of matches. She went back and sat on the short concrete wall that separated the parking lot from a field beyond it and lit one up. She'd mostly given this up, but sometimes she still needed one.

_If you're gonna mourn for the kids and the dog and the white picket fence, you'd better start now._ She'd had a better chance of having those things at Chateau Cult than she ever would with Dean.

_And they dish out the same punishments, too. Don't forget that._ He was dangerous, never mind the way he was now. He'd heal and they'd be right back to where they'd been. And what would he do the _next_ time he got angry?

"You left."

She jumped hard enough to nearly dump herself over the other side of the wall. She held up the pack of cigarettes. "Want one?"

He took one, cursed out the first match when the wind took the flame, then held out his hand. She had the strangest moment of perfect recall: Fourteen, sitting behind the grain silo smoking cigarettes they really believed no one's parents saw were missing. She handed him hers; he lit his off it and handed it back.

He leaned on the wall beside her. "What are you thinking about that you couldn't in there with me?"

_Well, fuck._ "What happens when you're better."

"Yeah. That. Do something for me. Two weeks. When we get where we're going, give me two weeks. Then decide."

"What is it you think you're going to do in two weeks?"

"Nothing, if you won't _let_ me. Look, I know things are different for you. I can't do anything about it if you won't meet me halfway."

"I don't think you _can_, Dean. I think you can try. But you'd get bored so fast."

"Two weeks. We'll both know by then."

_And in the meantime, you figure you get laid six ways to Sunday. But what the hell. It makes a pretty good way to say goodbye when you realize I really don't want to be treated like a whore now._ "All right. Two weeks."


	45. There Has To Be an Invisible Sun

Hollyann was stunned silent. Whatever she'd expected - and she wasn't really sure _what_ to expect - it wasn't the house Dean stopped the car in front of.

She wasn't at all sure to start with what Dean wanted with _anywhere_ in North Carolina. She'd never been in the part of the state they turned toward: First to the coast, and then somehow _past_ the coast. They were driving along a narrow spit of sand that jutted out into the ocean; it was like being on the edge of the world.

If there could be a middle of nowhere on a strip of beach she could see across, the house was in it. The two other houses on that section of the strand looked empty - vacation houses, probably. Other than those, there was nothing but sand and water as far as she could see. "How did you know about this place?"

"I spent a week here once It was...a good week." Dean even sounded a little hushed by it all. "So I thought maybe a little longer would be really good."

"Yeah, a couple weeks of this..."

"Six months."

"Two weeks."

"No, six months. If you decide to show my ass the door, it's yours the rest of the time. But I want it to be ours."

"For now it's yours. But you have a houseguest. How's that?"

"If it's the best I get, then I'll take it."

He really didn't like it when she took a separate bedroom. She thought that was probably a good time to get things out where they could look at them. "If you thought the way this was going to work was you get laid while I decide if I can trust you again, you thought wrong."

She saw something flicker in his eyes; with anyone else, she would have called it hurt. With Dean, she could just assume he was pissed off. She thought hard about it, then locked the bedroom door behind her.

The first few days went quietly; the place was soothing, and she was feeling more like herself with every hour there. Dean seemed content to watch that happen, and she wasn't going to push anything else. She'd agreed to meet him halfway, but she couldn't drag him there with her.

And then there was the real world out there, no matter how far away it seemed. He _had_ to work; it was a PPV weekend, and the match wasn't one they could run without him in. He wouldn't even entertain the idea of her going along. "Harper was right about one thing: You need to not be there."

"He said we _both_ shouldn't."

"I don't have to listen to everything he says, either. I have to go. You know that."

She nodded.

He smiled, a brief flicker. "This doesn't count against my two weeks, either."

* * *

_Well, I guess now I get to find out what happens when he's angry._

She was, too; it still drove her up a wall to sit and watch and do nothing. But they'd given her her marching papers as soon as they were sure she'd left 3MB, never mind _how_ she'd left. And she'd had to find out on the internet this morning, just to make the farce complete.

The PPV match went to The Shield; and if she'd had to cringe and cover her eyes a couple of times, well, the guys were all okay.

Raw was when it got ugly.

She sat there and watched Dean get robbed of his title, and there was nothing she could do, even if she could have been there somehow. She was a civilian. She couldn't do anything when they were put in a match against the Wyatts, either. She had no illusions about why that happened.

But angry wasn't all she was. There was room enough left in her for some grief.

_Oh, Luke, no. I'm so sorry._ But he was gone. All it took was one shot of him on the screen for her to know it. The man she'd had a glimpse of simply wasn't there any more.

_I'm on my own now. Just me and one last angry, dangerous man._ It occurred to her that she ought to just get the hell out while he was gone. But she'd promised him two weeks; he'd have it as long as he allowed her to give it.

It was his second day back when he finally grabbed the wheel. "I don't know how to do all this relationship stuff, Hollyann. You have to help me. I've never been in one before, I guess."

"All right," she said softly. "Lesson one: You still haven't. We don't have a relationship, Dean. We have sex."

"Not lately, we don't. But I'm not having it with anyone else, either. Isn't that a...something?"

"Not with Roman?"

"No. Not any more. If you want him back, we...I guess we can talk about that."

"I don't. I want something _normal_, Dean. Something sane."

"And you figured _Harper_ was gonna give you that?"

"No. I didn't figure anything. I went there to...get lost. He didn't let me."

"Did you let him?"

She looked up sharply. _You're really wising off now?_

His hands were clenched in front of him hard enough to make them shake. He was looking fixedly at them.

_All right, so maybe not. _"No. I didn't let him. He didn't try."

"That's it, then. He _is_ crazy."

"Dean..."

"All right, all right. I don't know what to do here, is that so amazing? Hell, McIntyre I understood, no matter how much it hurt. But that?"

"And you want to punish me for it, don't you?"

"I've never let anyone get away with hurting me. _Never_."

"And now you have to forgive me and let it go and trust me not to do it again. Just like you want me to do for you. Can you?"

"If that's what you want." He shifted around on the couch, wincing. He was still hurting, even two days after the inevitable results of Evolution deciding 6 on 3 made them big men. This, she could do something about. If he'd let her, which was doubtful. He'd just misunderstand, sure as night followed day.

_Then make him understand. Help, like you said you would._ "Sit up. On the edge of the couch."

He did, giving her a strange look when she slipped in and sat behind him, legs snugged around his. There wasn't much space, but it would do.

When her hands fell on his shoulders, caressing, he turned and reached for her.

_Well, that didn't take long._ "Turn around and sit still."

The frustrated look he gave her was really kind of adorable. But he turned back around.

"I didn't spend _all_ my time in Japan wrestling. I had a ton of free time, actually." She dug in a little harder, kneading tense the tense bundle of muscle at the base of his neck. "So I took massage classes. One of the first things we learned was that everyone thinks people carry tension in their shoulders, but that isn't quite right. They carry their shoulders in a tense way because the tension is all _here_. Especially men." She really leaned in, as much as the position they were in made possible. Dean groaned softly, and she smiled. "You must have years of it built up."

She could feel his shoulders drop as she worked. "See? Hit the right pressure point, and whoosh, there goes all the pressure."

"Not _all_ of it."

"Mmm. My instructor taught us different ways to massage men and women. Not the musculature so much - it really isn't all that different - but the things to look out for." She moved her hands a little lower, between his shoulderblades. "Massage is at least a little psychology, she told us. And the most important thing to remember is that most men don't ever get touched in a caring way unless it's during sex. Men's bodies get...confused. If it feels good, it must be foreplay."

She slid her hands around, letting her fingers work along his ribcage. It was easy to feel how much his breathing had already quickened. "It isn't just you, you know. A lot of men find being touched a little...challenging."

"I...ah..."

"You're rising to the challenge? Exactly the problem."

"Did your teacher...recommend anything for that?"

"Ignoring it, mostly." She slid her hands down to his abs. God, his body made her feel a little drunk; it didn't matter what else was going on. "Unless it's someone you're already...intimate with. Then it's okay to continue the massage, with permission, of course. Do I have permission to continue?" _This is NOT what you were going to do_, her mind snapped at her.

"Fuck, yes. But are you really going to tell me I'm _confused_?"

"I think I _might_ have slipped into unprofessional behavior. I hope you don't mind." She let her hands slide lower. She found exactly what she was expecting, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He shivered and tried to turn around again.

"No, baby. Just relax and enjoy." She stroked him with one hand, teasing the head with her fingertips, smiling when she felt wetness under them. Her other hand was opening his pants. She used both to free him. "Enjoy. Just enjoy."

The sounds he made were animalistic, groans and growls and panting, but he didn't try to interfere again. She stroked him slowly, her grip firm on him. She wanted to see; he felt huge and hot in her palm. But she couldn't see around his shoulders, so she settled for kissing them, licking the back of his neck, nuzzling at the straggling waves of hair there. Her free hand went back to his abs, scratching lightly at them as she pumped him more quickly, letting her palm slide up to caress the tip with each stroke. His hips were bucking now, and he was clutching the edge of the couch cushion to keep from thrusting himself right off it. He came hard enough that she _could_ see that; not a drop ended up on her hand. He was almost screaming when she let go.

And still he tried to turn around again. "No." She pushed back against the back of the couch. She'd bought a bunch of clothes when they'd gone back to the nearest town the first day. The pants she had on were insanely comfortable, but mostly because they were a size too big. Dean had watched with amusement all day as she repeatedly muttered blackly and hitched them up. She couldn't be happier about it now, though.

He felt her hand moving around, and he knew what she was doing. "Damn, baby, come on."

"I didn't get to see, so neither do you."

Oh, this was going to be quick. Her hips were rocking almost immediately; he felt that, too. "Let me do it."

"All right. Don't move." She pushed up against him, rocking and grinding against his ass, crushing her fingers against her clit in a quickening rhythm. Her mind was singing the praises of whatever he was doing in the gym; she was riding up against rock-hard muscle, and it felt so fucking good. Her free hand fumbled over his stomach, looking for him. He caught it, laced his fingers with hers, and squeezed, matching the rhythm of her movements.

"Oh, _fuck_. Dean, oh baby." She pulled her hand out of her pants; she didn't need it any more. When he felt it on his thigh, he took it and brought it to his lips. She made a garbled, wordless sound when he started licking her wetness from her fingers. When he sucked two into his mouth to get all of it, she came, sobbing his name, hips slamming against him, legs coming up to lock around his waist so he couldn't go anywhere until she was done, all done.

She kept them there when the last of the aftershocks had raced through her, wrapping her arms around him so she could rest her head against his shoulder. Okay, so this hadn't been the lesson she'd intended. Right now, she didn't mind a bit.


	46. And You Exploded into My Heart

Hollyann found she had her own stuff to confront.

First was being unemployed for the first time since she was 16. She had savings, enough to keep her rolling for a while, but they wouldn't last forever, and she didn't want to drain them if she could avoid it.

Second was that the sanity she wanted just wasn't going to _be_ with Dean. And it was a long way from being all his fault.

Sex wasn't the basis for a real relationship. But it was all _over_ the place with them - singing and shouting and dancing naked on the tables. It was everywhere, maybe most of all in her attempts to get it _out_ of some things.

The stuff that drove her crazy...well, drove her _crazy_. The way the waistband of his pants lay against his waist. The lines of his torso under a tight t-shirt. The rare occasions when he just left his hair alone and let it be a tumble of waves. And those eyes, forever those eyes. She couldn't touch him and not want him. Hell, she could barely look at him without it happening. It was like he had his thumb on her hormone button and was just mashing away gleefully at it.

She wasn't sure that was even healthy. She was _damn_ sure it wasn't the foundation of a sane relationship.

He was trying, really hard. It had to be like learning a foreign language by listening to someone speak it without translation.

She'd seen just how hard he really was trying last night. He'd gone missing; she'd found him half a mile up the beach, just standing there watching the water. It wasn't until she got almost up beside him that she realized it was the moon he was looking at, not the water. The fingernail moon. She could almost hear his lost, grieving voice, asking questions and getting answers he didn't want from a voice that didn't speak.

"Do you want me to go with you again?"

He shook his head. "I'm not going. No more."

"Do you think that's safe?"

"It's _over_. I asked for help before I went in to get you. I fucking _begged_ for it. I sure the fuck didn't get it, and the help you got came from Harper, from one of _them_. Whatever the fuck it is, it abandoned us. No more. No more asking it to give me anything, no more letting it take things from me. No more any of it."

She wanted to do a lot of things: Jump up and down and cheer, hug him, tackle him and give him things he didn't have to ask anyone else for.

Before she had a chance to choose one, he made the whole point moot. "What are you going to do about that email from Shimmer?"

"Make you stop reading my email."

"They offered you a tryout."

"And given how long I worked for them, I'm only a little offended by that. But I don't have a lot of options."

"I don't want you to."

"Dean, it's not like I'd be touring. It's like four days a year. Ten maybe, if I get an ROH match here and there."

"Which isn't enough money to even make a dent. You'd be making indie runs for the rest. I get a say in this, right?"

"I do this or live on my savings until I'm tapped. Neither of us gets much say in that."

"_Fuck_, woman, it's not like I'm fucking broke."

"No, but I'm not too into the whole kept woman thing."

"How am I supposed to take care of you if you won't let me?"

"This isn't the kind of taking care I meant."

"But here it is anyway. You gonna slam the door in my face every time something happens you didn't expect?"

"That's not fair."

"But you're doing it anyway."

She managed to keep herself from just having a foot-stomping tantrum. Barely. "You're not listening to me. At all."

He shook his head. "I am. But you can't tell me you want more than sex from me and then push me away when there's something more I can give you. What, it's all good as long as you don't actually _need_ me for anything?"

"I don't like needing people."

"Me either. But damn, we're sure stuck with it, aren't we?"

"Looks like one of us sure is."

He ruined her Grand, Stomping Exit by grabbing her and spinning her around. "You think I don't need you? After all this?" The noise he made sounded like _Gaaaaaaah_. He yanked her up against him and kissed her hard.

"Here we go again? It doesn't _solve_ anything, Dean."

"Oh God, would you please just shut _up_? Need you? I'd fucking _die_ without you. You did that and now you want to not let me make sure I don't have to be?"

All she could do for a few seconds was stare up at him. "What do you think is going to happen to me? I work once a season, I come home. It's weekends; you wouldn't even have to wait around for me. I know that's not much fun."

"That's not how it's supposed to be."

"When? 1863? Boy, are you gonna be pissed when I want to vote, too."

"Damn it, _stop_ that. Look, I don't know much about normal. I haven't had a whole lot of it. Is it really not normal for me to not want to watch you scratch for everything? When you don't have to? Is that fucked up?"

"No. But you're asking me to make a decision I'm not ready to make."

"Yeah, I am. What else have I asked you for?"

"Nothing. Just what's left of my pride."

"Is it really going to lay you so low to let me be a man for you?"

"You already do that."

"Not enough. Not for me." He rested his chin on top of her head; she considered having a heart attack. "I need to know you're here, and safe, and you have everything you need. You keep saying we have to do stuff right. Well, that's it: That's _right_. You can't bend that pride just a little and give me that?"

She just stood there for a while and enjoyed being wrapped up in him. Wasn't it just another way of doing that? He obviously thought so.

"You're getting by without giving me the whole two weeks, mister. All right. I'll tell them in the morning. I'll say I had a better offer."

"So if I carry you in the house and peel that dress off you, is that still trying to solve things with my dick?"

"Nope. It's probably just our version of a handshake on the deal."

* * *

She thought it probably wasn't the sleep of the just; more like the sleep of the very well laid. But the thought shot her out of it like a human cannonball anyway.

_You don't solve everything being one way by making it all another way. You end up with the same problem in reverse._

No, a complete inability to keep their clothes on wasn't the basis for a relationship. But it could sure as hell be part of one. A really good part.

And if she didn't want it to be all psychodrama, that didn't mean they couldn't still play with the good stuff. There had been that, too, lots of it.

And giving up the life she'd had? Hadn't she been trying like hell to do that for months now? Kids and dog and picket fence would have meant doing that, too. Especially where she'd damn near tried to do it. Was it really that much for him to ask? It wasn't fair to demand he give her a normal life and then not give him any of one back.

And then there was the whole idea of _normal_, wasn't there? Other people's normal wouldn't ever be theirs. It couldn't possibly be. But they could have _their_ normal, whatever they decided that was.

_And you've got me thinking about what that's going to be, don't you? Sneaky bastard._ She laid back down. It would surely wake him - he slept like a paranoid cat - but she couldn't help herself: She gently brushed back the strands of hair that were perpetually in his eyes. To her amazement, he smiled, but he stayed asleep.

_I love him. God help me._


End file.
